Seeing Green
by Beauty'sBeast
Summary: Hermione Granger has a crush on Dean Thomas. Old family friend Draco Malfoy is 'looking out' for Dean, and guiding him away from his mistake in liking Granger back. What happens when both Hermione, and Draco, realize his real motive? WARNING: Dean/Hermione in first four chapters! Rated M for crystal ball predictions of M'ness. If I owned Harry Potter, Dramione would be cannon.
1. Birthday Girl

_ I do not own any of the characters or story line of Harry Potter, and all credit goes to J.K Rowling, the legend herself._

**Please enjoy reading this, any comments or feedback is most appreciated. Enjoy!**

**Chapter One.**

* * *

"Happy Birthday to you," Hermione stirred from her sleep,

"Happy Birthday to you," she opened her eyes gently, squinting into the sunlight,

"Happy Birthday, dear Hermione, Happy Birthday to you!"

Hermione sat up in her makeshift bed on the floor and smiled. She rubbed her eyes gently before looking at the beaming faces before her. Fred and George's heads could be seen peeping just above Mr and Mrs Weasley's. Arthur gently held his arm around his wife, Molly's shoulder and pulled her into him tight. The four of them smiled in unison. Hermione couldn't help but smile back. Next, she noticed the jet black, disheveled hair inbetween the sea of red. Harry sat on the edge of her bed, looking quite out of place, but smiling very much like the rest of them. However, he looked a little less put together with his glasses slightly askew. On the opposite side was Ron, who was smirking slightly with one corner of his mouth curled into a smile. It was something that Ron had done a lot around Hermione over the summer, and she imagined he only hoped it looked attractive. Her thoughts however, were quite different. And sat before her in the middle was Ginny, who was practically radiating beauty even at that time. She smiled, her face near enough glowing in the warm light of what Hermione now noticed to be a cake, decorated with dancing candles, she was holding before her.

"Thankyou, really," Hermione smiled, a little overwhelmed, "You shouldn't have."

A few shook their heads and the rest laughed,

"We had to make it special," Ron pointed out, "You're only seventeen once-"

"-And you only get to blow out your candles once," Ginny interrupted, "So I'd be quick if I was you."

Ginny and Hermione laughed, before the latter smoothed back her hair and took a deep breath. She blew the candles with quite some force, but the flame merely flickered, and it was still burning strong again. After a suspicious glance, and a few more tries, a small infection of giggles began to break out between the people before her.

"I should've known," Hermione rolled her eyes, searching the sea of red for Fred and George's faces, who seemed to be looking more amused than ever.

"Another Day Won't Blow Away candles-" George informed her with a smirk,

"-We just got a batch delivered at the shop," Fred continued, "And we were sure one box wouldn't go to waste."

Hermione laughed and shook her head, before Mrs Weasley cleared her voice,

"Come on now," she said, beginning to waft her hands in the air as if to signal the others to disperse, "The poor girl probably isn't even awake, give her some time to get ready-"

There was chatter as the group began to part their own ways. Molly walked over to Hermione and cupped the latter's face in her hands, beaming at her.

"Happy Birthday sweetie," she kissed Hermione on both cheeks before turning to Fred and George who seemed to be hysterically laughing at something.

Harry also wished Hermione a happy birthday, as did Ginny and Mr Weasley.

"-So, Harry?" Arthur began, just catching Harry as he turned to walk to his bed.

He placed his arm around the boys shoulder and looked very serious,

"Do tell me more about this fire extringwisher," he continued.

"_Extinguisher,_" Hermione heard Harry correct him, before the two disappeared through the door, deep in conversation.

It was then, that she noticed someone was still sat on her bed. Hermione turned to look, and found a grinning Ron looking in her direction.

"Happy Birthday, Hermione," he said quietly, and pulled his signature smirk again.

Hermione forced a smile, though inside she was mentally cringing.

"Thankyou, Ronald," she said politely, "And thankyou for letting me and Harry stay, too."

He shook his head and dismissed the comment, before nodding briefly and eventually leaving Hermione be.

With a sigh, the latter relaxed into her bed. She looked at the cake Ginny had left beside her bed and smiled. Staying at The Burrow was becoming a tradition for Harry and Hermione during any holiday period. As the Summer Holiday came to a close, the two arrived at the Weasley household to stay over night so the group could travel back to Hogwarts. It was more convenient to travel in bulk, and more enjoyable too. Now that Fred and George had left, Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Harry made their own way to the train station. Due to past experience, Ron could handle the flying car quite easily.

* * *

The morning the fouresome endured was a busy one. At eleven o'clock, Harry, Hermione and the two siblings found a carriage on the Hogwarts express, and practically collapsed into their seats. Ginny and Hermione sat on one side of the cabin, and Ron and Harry sat on the other. Hermione had found an unexpected friend in Ginny over the previous holiday. Once Mr Weasley had installed a muggle phone into their house, which was mainly for his fascination, than to be used, Ginny took the opportunity and rang Hermione every once or twice. This became routine after a while, and as the holiday progressed, she and Ginny would talk for hours on the phone almost every night. Hermione just hoped that Mr Weasley knew that with Muggle phones, came Muggle phone bills that demanded to be payed. However, her train of thought was disrupted when the cabin door was gently slid open.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?" said the Trolley witch.

Hermione was just about to object, before Harry jumped up and spoke,

"Yes, please," he said, and turned to Hermione.

"-Come on Birthday girl, take your pick."

Hermione smiled and stood. She began looking over the trolley. They had everything. Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, the list was endless.

Hermione picked some Sugar Quills and Liquorice Wands, before thanking Harry, and the elderly lady and smiling as she left. The two turned to return to their cabin, before yet again another voice interrupted.

"Splashing the cash a little, aren't we Potter?"

That voice was all too familiar. Hermione and Harry gritted their teeth, and turned to see Draco Malfoy strutting down the train aisle. He stopped just before the pair, and smirked. Malfoy was considerably taller than Harry, and by all means Hermione, but the latter did her best to look up into his distasteful face and scowl.

"It's what friends do for friends when it's their birthday," Harry began, "But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you Malfoy?"

This seemed to amuse the blonde more than ever,

"How sweet," Draco spat, "And I guess now Potter's finally old enough to learn how to use the potty."

Harry took a step towards Draco, but Hermione pulled at his navy jacket to stop him.

"-Actually it's my birthday," she informed the snarling boy.

His cold, icy-grey eyes jolted to look into her warm, brown ones. She held her scowl.

"Well maybe now, Mudblood, you're old enough to learn your place."

"-She's old enough to do a lot of things," yet another voice interrupted.

Hermione left Draco's locked stare to look over his left shoulder. Her stomach flipped slightly. The boy smiled at her in return. _Merlin's bones, _she thought. Dean Thomas was a Hufflepuff, in the same year as Hermione. Though Hufflepuffs were renowned for being small and shy, Dean was not. He was tall, slightly smaller than Draco, so Hermione imagined he was around 6ft 1. His shoulders were broad, and his muscular arms tensed from his pushed up jumper sleeves. His skin was a slightly tanned, olive colour, which complimented his ash blonde hair and brown eyes. Hermione found herself grinning sheepishly in return, as the boy heavily placed his arm around Draco's shoulder. The latter, however, shrugged it off, and turned his back on Harry and Hermione.

It was all over too quickly, and Harry and pulled Hermione back into the cabin and shut the door.

"What was that all about?" Ron asked, but Hermione was oblivious, and watched the two boys outside the glass of the door. Harry began explaining the scenario to Ron, whilst Ginny watched over Hermione cautiously.

Malfoy was standing close to Dean. His face was somewhat a picture of disgust and anger. He looked down into the Hufflepuffs eyes, who seemed to be holding his stare. Dean place an arm on the wall and leaned casually against it. But Malfoy was not casual. He had his hand shoved in his pockets and he stood tall, his broad shoulders tensed. They seemed to be talking quitely, so quiet Hermione couldn't hear. And the blonde seemed to be doing all the talking. Dean nodded continuously somewhat every minute.  
Dean and Malfoy had been friends for a long time. Both of their families were pure bloods, and the two had been introduced as family friends. Their parents had attended Hogwarts together, and had all been in Slytherin. It was as much a shock to their parents as it was to everyone else when Dean was sorted into Hufflepuff. Despite this, Draco and Dean still seemed to be good friends. Atleast, that is what Hermione presumed they were.

Hermione snapped out of her trance as the two broke apart. Malfoy sneered at the latter as he caught her glance on the way past, but Hermione merely scowled in return. She looked back to where the two were stood before and sighed to see Dean had, too, walked away.

Ginny was very observant. She watched Hermione with deep interest, from the second she bought her sweets, which Hermione had no appetite to eat now, to the second she turned her gaze to Ginny's and smiled. The red head frowned,

"When exactly were you planning on telling me you had a crush on Dean Thomas?" she asked, keeping her voice hushed.

Hermione glanced at the two boys opposite them cautiously, but they seemed to be engrossed in some story that Harry was telling, no doubt about a summer at the Dursley's. Hermione turned back to Ginny, and smiled guilty. She didn't quite know herself.

* * *

The students were thrown back into the Hogwarts routine all too quickly. That was for everyone, except Hermione of course. She was almost glad to be back to what she considered to be 'normality'. However, this did not seem to be the attitude of many students. As the Gryffindors and Slytherins made their way to Potions, Hermione pondered on that thought. She agreed, it wasn't the best lesson to be thrown into. Snape's distaste for her was evident since their first lesson together, six years ago, but since then, she had learnt to not submit to his level and let his immaturity bother her. To add to her chagrin, she had to unwillingly mingle with the Slytherin house, as Hermione would find out that day.

"Take a seat," Snape's monotone voice called. That was something Hermione didn't miss.

"-Quickly," he said, with a sharp tone.

Hermione sat next to Lavender, behind Ron and Harry. She turned to see Neville anxiously looking for a space. The only available one was the small fraction of a bench, not taken up by a somewhat larger than usual Millicent Bullstrode.

"Do not worry about where you are sat, you are soon to be paired up with your new assigned partners anyway," Snape said, eyeing Neville.

He sighed,

"Longbottom! Sit. Down."

Neville blushed, and did as he was told. Millicent turned to the shy boy beside her and grunted unattractively. It was clear, that like Hermione and many others, Snape was definitely not Neville's favorite teacher.

She turned to face Snape, who seemed to have an even less joyful expression that last year, if that was even possible.

"Holiday is over, students," he began, "I need your full attention and nothing but, though it pains me to do so. Now this year, you are to be assigned to a partner in which you will unwillingly _have _to spend time together. That time, in which, you will brew many potions and write many reports throughout the year, which _I _will selflessly mark."

Hermione rolled her eyes at his tone. He often phrased his opinions as if the students should pity his control over the class and his job he willingly signed up to do.

"-Now the first Potion you will be brewing is one of a difficult kind, so I have assigned you to someone I can only hope will help you excel in this lesson."

Snape snatched a long piece of parchment lay on his desk. He began reading the pairing names off the list, not before giving a deep sigh.

"-...Brown and Crabbe, Potter and Parkinson, Weasley and Bullstrode, Malfoy and Longbottom,"

There was a sense of revolt as Hermione turned, wide eyed, to look at a quaking Neville and a practically disgusted Malfoy. She pitied Neville, but was glad Malfoy had not been paired with her as her names was one of the last read from the list,

"...Granger and Zabini."

Hermione took a deep breath. She turned to he right, to see her partner. Blaise Zabini was a Slytherin at his best. He was cunning, smart, and confident. He was, however, the least horrible out of Malfoy's silly group. He sat, noticeably, with Malfoy, who still seemed to have a look of pure horror stuck upon his arrogant features. However Blaise merely looked up in Hermione's direction and met her stare. His posture was relaxed, as were his dark features, and his dark skin perfectly reflected the dungeon lights. The only word that anyone could find to describe Blaise was _cool_. Regardless, Hermione was only acceptable of the pairing as she knew Blaise was extremely smart. She was thankful to Snape because of this. As people began to move to sit with their pairs, Blaise stood, showing his full height, and sauntered over to Hermione. He sat next to her, silently, and rested his hand on the back of her chair. Hermione leant forwards as if scared to touch him. He smirked in response,

"Granger, I don't bite," he said.

His voice was just as relaxed and impressive as he was. Hermione felt almost foolish. She signaled, however, to Malfoy, who was sat with as much distance between him and Neville as possible. The blonde had his head lay upon his work bench. Hermione rolled her eyes at his pure arrogance and ignorance.

Blaise caught on,

"He's so oblivious to his own torture I doubt he even realizes who I've been paired with."

Hermione looked at the boy with an expression of insult. She raised an eyebrow and he merely smirked again,

"Not that I'm complaining," He continued, "I'm glad I'm paired with someone who actually comprehends basic logic of the world and it's simplistic ways."

Hermione felt a little more at ease then.

* * *

"-It was huge!" Seamus cried, "I mean, I've blown stuff up before, bu' this time, it was worse. An' see these eyebrows? Well of course ye' don't! I only went an' bloody well blasted the wee buggers off didn' I?!.."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. She'd tried to tutor Seamus in the past, but it was hopeless. No matter what he tried, some how it resulted in fire or some sort of explosion. She wasn't sure whether this could possibly be beneficial to him in any way, or whether he should just give up now. She sighed, watching the Irish boy animatedly explain to Neville another accident he'd had. Neville, who was currently wide eyed, slowly biting a sausage and chewing on it in big motions, looked at Seamus incredulously. Hermione smiled. Though he wasn't the brightest spark, Neville was always there for you.

However, Hermione was distracted when she turned and felt the presence of someone's eyes watching her. She looked up, past Ginny's red hair, and saw those familiar brown eyes looking back at her. Her stomach flipped once more. She smiled at Dean, who was happy he'd caught her glance,

"Having fun?" he mouthed to her,

She shook her head and replied,

"Boring."

He laughed slightly. Hermione felt her cheeks blush. She'd never been able to make a boy laugh before, despite Ron and Harry, and even then it was unintentional. Ginny's eyes flicked up. She watched Hermione whisper across the tables and frowned.

"Who're you talking to?" she asked.

Hermione broke her gaze with Dean and looked at her confused,

"-Hm, what?" she frowned, "Oh, erm, no one."

Ginny had a knowing smile on her face,

"Well, 'No-one' must be good at getting girls to blush," she pointed out.

When Hermione looked back up, she saw Dean was in deep conversation with one of his housemates. She looked back at her food. She'd lost her appetite again.

* * *

Ginny didn't seem to be the only person who had the knowledge of Hermione and Dean. From the other side of the Great Hall, Draco watched the two carefully. His face was once again that of a snarl, and he inspected the situation with interest. Blaise noticed his lack of input into the conversations around him. He was quiet. The latter followed his gaze to see the scene between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff unfold.

"You know," he broke the silence, "If you stare so much, you'll start to see green."

Draco grunted in disbelief,

"I'm not fucking jealous, Zabini," he spat.

Blaise smiled,

"Then why are you so interested?" he asked.

Draco turned to Blaise and inspected his face. He frowned, as if he was looking at someone he recognized but couldn't make out who they were.

"I have my reasons," he finally said, just before Dumbledore took to his podium.

Blaise raised his eyebrows at Draco, before turning to face the front of the hall. Draco watched Blaise for a couple more seconds, before glancing at Dean, who had has back to Draco, and then Granger who still had a pathetic blush upon her cheeks. He cringed.

"-Students, students, settle down if you will," Dumbledore's voice echoed throughout the hall.

A silence fell over the witches and wizards, as they all turned to look at their headmaster.

"Thankyou," he nodded his head.

"-Firstly, I would like to start with a large welcome back, and a new welcoming to our first year students."

There was a sudden round of applause. Many Slytherins eyed the newcomers with distaste. Malfoy scoffed and turned to Blaise,

"Just another bunch of know-it-all's and wannabe's."

Blaise sniggered in return.

"-Secondly," Dumbledore began once more, "I would like to congratulate all of our prefects, and would like to inform those students that their prefect patrols commence tonight. Their rotas and pair up assignments are listen in their common rooms."

Draco grunted. Blaise had a similar expression, and turned to Draco. They rolled their eyes and sighed. The boys had other things on their minds at night than to go and search the school aimlessly for hours on end.

* * *

The castle was different at night time. Hermione found herself fascinated by the silence that fell over the usually bustling corridors. She held her wand before her, as the cast of _Lumos _lit the corridors. Lavender followed shortly behind. Hermione had a slight aversion to that girl. She had never been a fan of over reacting, overly nice, overly friendly girls, and Lavender ticked all those boxes. Regardless, Hermione knew it could've been worse. The brunette just tried to pace ahead a little. The less time she spent in a close proximity with Lavender, the better.

The night she had so far endured was uneventful. Only one second year was found out of bed, and when Hermione told him to go to his dormitory immediately, he mocked her tone of voice and superior attitude and strutted off down the corridor as an attempt to impersonate her. Lavender found the scene quite funny, which only made Hermione hate her more.

Lavender had fallen behind, which really didn't bother Hermione. The corridor on the fifth floor was quiet, until Hermione heard mumbling. There were two voices, she could make out, both male and deep. This was her chance to take her role seriously. As she approached the corner near the staircase, Hermione held out her wand confidently.

"Listen, Thomas," she heard a voice command.

Hermione stopped abruptly, and leaned flat against the wall, trying to keep her breathing quietly. She edged closer to the corner, and craned her neck so she could watch the scene unfold.

Dean Thomas and Draco Malfoy stood at the top of the staircase. Dean was one step down, and Malfoy towered above him. Hermione saw the Slytherin's platinum hair glowing in the moonlight, and this first gave away who it was. She edged a little closer to the end of the wall, and strained to see Malfoy holding his wand up to Dean's throat. The latter, however, stared back relentlessly. Hermione's breath caught in her throat, and she nervously watched the two boys argue.

"-And if you even think about carrying this out," Draco spat,

Dean laughed,

"It's not of your fucking business Malfoy, why are you so bothered?"

"Your mother asked me to watch over you this year. She didn't want you to fuck up like your stupid father did,"

Dean snarled at Draco, but the Slytherin held his wand tight to the boys chin, which had him frozen again.

"-You're just going to get attached to Quidditch which you were never good at, and fail all your stupid subjects. And now this?"

"I can do whatever the fuck I like, Malfoy. You're not my dad,"

Draco scoffed,

"I'm proud not to be, you're just going to turn out like him and make all the wrong decisions. You've really stooped low this time, Thomas, I hope you're proud of what you've become because you're letting yourself and your family down, thanks to _her_."

The Slytherin took a step back from Dean, who could finally breathe whilst resting on the banister. Malfoy looked the boy up and down and shook his head,

"I'm ashamed to even know you," he spat, before turning on his heel and stalking to Hermione's direction.

She hastily moved to the door of a classroom and opened it slightly as if she was just leaving. Hermione could hear the _click _of the Slytherin's shoes as he approached her. She shut the door just as he turned the corner.

The two jumped slightly at eachother's presence, before Draco sneered down to Hermione and shoved his wand into his pocket.

"What a coincidence," he chuckled, "Isn't it past your bedtime mudblood?"

Hermione stuck her chin in the air with superiority. She hated the term '_mudblood__' _ but it was growing old now that Draco was clearly unable to think of anything else.

"Atleast I have a reason to be out of bed at this time. Shouldn't you be in your dorm? I'm sure losing points from your house isn't worth this stunt, is it?" she questioned.

The Slytherin laughed and took a step towards her, invading her personal space. She felt her breath catch in her chest, much like before, and the smell of his musky cologne intoxicated her.

"Granger, Granger, Granger," he mocked.

Hermione took a deep breath and glared at him. He made her feel so small and immature.

"-Wake up and smell the coffee, will you? You have no idea who you're messing with."

With a final inspection of the Gryffindor from head to toe, Draco's icy-cold eyes bored into Hermione's as he raised his eyebrows and eventually turned to leave.

She felt him nudge her shoulder as he barged past her, and strutted down the corridor. His heels clicked with almost arrogance, much like before. When she heard them fade out of reach, Hermione released a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. She sighed, looking down at the floor. For the rest of the night, she couldn't help but ponder over the thought of Draco and Dean's incident. For all this time, Hermione thought they were friends.

This was just something Hermione hated herself for not being able to understand.

* * *

**A/N: **Congrats on reaching the end! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter ( a long one at that! My apologies). There's a lot more to come, and I know exactly where I'm going with this story! Everything is not as it seems, trust me.

_ Don't forget review, good or bad, all feedback is appreciate and really motivates me to continue writing. _

_Thanks, Amelia x_


	2. Just 'Friends'

_I do not own any of the characters or story line of Harry Potter, and all credit goes to J.K Rowling, the legend herself._

**Please enjoy reading this, any comments or feedback is most appreciated. Enjoy!**

**Chapter Two.**

* * *

Summer was lingering over Hogwarts. The sweltering, August heat pressed down upon the school, and despite the never-ending battle to stay cool, it had its benefits too. The grounds looked beautiful. Herbology was in full bloom, as was the area surrounding it. For Neville, he'd never been more positive and happy. The Black Lake was no longer the daunting shadow of itself. It was now an open invitation to submerge into it's cool, crystal gleaming tides, though students were wary not to go too far. Everyone could taste the sweet, summer vibes and feel the radiating happiness in their bones. There was not once a day when the Quidditch pitch was not occupied by teams, especially Hufflepuff and Slytherin as they had a daunting match approaching. If the students were not conversing about the beautiful weather, they were gossiping about the forthcoming match. This was evident in a Potions class, deep in the dungeons.

A very flushed Hermione Granger sat beside her assigned partner, Blaise Zabini. The dungeons were stuffy and hot, the last place the students wanted to be on a day like today. Hermione was finding it hard to contain the frizz that now resembled her hair. The humidity was Hermione's enemy, and as much as her olive skin would tan easily, she sometimes despised the sun and it's affect on her. Blaise found this quite amusing. Though he wasn't a pathetic bully much like his friends, he did have his moments in which he taunted Hermione.

"Tell me, Granger," he speculated, looking very relaxed and smug with his arm across the back of her chair as usual, "Just how long will it be until the small percentage of the school that is left, is tragically engulfed into that ever growing nest on that head of yours?"

Hermione turned to face the dark Slytherin, pursing her lips and furrowing her brow. This was a face Hermione often found herself pulling when she was angry or annoyed. Regardless, it did no justice to her. It was the second lesson Hermione had spent with Blaise, and already she was starting to remember why exactly he had been sorted into Slytherin. However, his deep brown eyes gleamed with amusement, and he revealed a glowing, white grin accompanied by a deep chuckle. Hermione took a breath and kept her glare.

"That may have other girls swooning, but not me Zabini. And well done concerning your earlier joke, it was most amusing," she said sarcastically.

Blaise's smile faded and he replaced it with a frown.

"Who pissed in your pumpkin juice?" he asked.

Hermione was just about to reply when she felt something light hit the back of her head. She turned to see a screwed up piece of parchment resting on the bench beside her. Taking it gently in her hands, she looked up and searched the room for the sender. Her eyes instantly met a pair of intense, stormy-grey ones. She broke the gaze and rolled her eyes. Could Malfoy really stoop so low as to throw parchment at her?

"I was aiming at Zabini," he called, two rows behind, "In future keep that big, bushy head down, Granger."

Hermione scowled at the blonde, who merely raised his eyebrows in return, before she felt the ball of parchment being snatched from her hand. She turned sharply to see Blaise unfolding it. He looked at her as if to say _'What're you looking at now?'_ and she cleared her throat quickly, making the first remark to come into her head.

"The boy has ghastly aim."

Blaise shook his head in disbelief, before reading the creased note he held in his hands. Hermione couldn't help but be suspicious. With all the sneaking around Draco could be potentially doing, similarly to lastnight, and the fact the note had quite directly hit her head, she felt as though she had the right to know what was written on it. Blaise could sense her suspicion.

"Nothing interesting, Granger," he murmured, still paying full attention to the parchment, "Just wondering whether I'll fill in on the game tomorrow considering the team is a man down."

Hermione had almost forgotten about the Slytherin vs Hufflepuff game that took place tomorrow, though not completely as it was almost impossible to be oblivious due to the constant talk about it. Hermione then remembered a certain Hufflepuff captain, and her stomach flipped. She found herself smiling foolishly, and looked down at her work. Blaise's eyes flicked from the parchment to the Gryffindor's face. He noticed the blush play across her cheeks, and holding back the gag he found was begging to escape him, he broke the silence.

"If the image of me in a tight, Slytherin quidditch uniform has you blushing that much-"

Hermione snapped her head in his direction instantly,

"No!" She interrupted.

Blaise pulled a signature grin again, and Hermione felt stupid for getting so wound up over his taunting. She'd have to bare in mind not to do exactly that in future.

"I'm just playing with you Granger," Blaise held his hand up, "I know you prefer Hufflepuffs."

There was that blush again. This time out of sheer embarrassment. To add to the soaring heat, Hermione felt her body temperature inflate from head to toe. If Blaise Zabini, the most relaxed, inattentive and most unlikely to gossip, knew about her crush on Dean Thomas, then god knows who else knew. Hermione felt disconcerted, and was mentally running through her brain, searching for somewhat of an answer that wouldn't make her look completely foolish. Blaise folded away the parchment and placed it in his back pocket.

"That'll be our little secret," he said, and tapped his nose knowingly, "Now don't we have a library meet up rota to plan?"

* * *

The walk from inside Hogwarts to Hagrid's hut took about ten minutes. Ten minutes of sheer exhaustion and effort in the sweltering heat that was now gracing mid-day. Harry, Ron and Hermione were currently taking the opportunity to do just that, and visit Hagrid, who they had not seen in a long time. Hermione fanned herself with a spare piece of parchment. On that day, she wore her normal school skirt which was just above the knee, a short sleeve, fitted, school blouse that hung loosely out of her skirt, -correct uniform really wasn't an option in this weather-, and her tie loosely lying around her neck. Yet she was still to hot. Harry and Ron felt similar. Regardless, the three continued on to the hut with a positive attitude. That lasted shortly, for a certain red-head however.

Hermione noticed him right away.

"Is that Dean Thomas?" she said instantly, without really realizing what she was saying.

Her stomach tied knots in itself and forced her to take a breath. She found herself smiling as usual.

A group of tall, broad looking boys began jogging across the trio's path. The Gryffindors halted instantly, Hermione a bit earlier than the boys. Dean and his Hufflepuff team were taking advantage of the weather, training devotedly the day before the game. The group of about six or seven looked exhausted, apart from Dean. Hermione noticed his bulging muscles glistening with the beads of sweat that covered his torso. The team wore yellow, tight vests, which Hermione noticed complimented all of their muscular physiques, but none more so than their captain. As the boys stopped to stretch, a familiar pair of hazel eyes looked up and met Hermione's. Dean smiled when he saw the Gryffindor. Hermione's stomach possibly doubled over when she saw the way it lit up his face, and she smiled sheepishly back.

"Morning," he nodded, taking in the trio, noticeably pausing on Hermione.

"I see you're well prepared for the game," Harry commented, politely making conversation.

Dean's eyes snapped from Hermione's at Harry's comment. He looked at him, quite confused. Hermione thought he looked simply adorable.

"Erm, yeah," he caught on, a grin now playing across his face, "-After all, we have to impress, don't we?"

Dean took a long glance at Hermione, his grin now turning into more of a smirk. He examined her from head to toe, slowly. Hermione felt a little uncomfortable under his stare, and looked away. She could tell by the heat on her face, her cheeks must resemble something of a tomato. How she hated how much she blushed.

Ron watched from afar. His eyes flicked between the Hufflepuff and his friend. It'd become evident the past couple of days, just how badly Hermione had a crush on Dean, but despite being her friend, he was nothing close to being happy for her. Ron knew what Dean could be like. He wasn't as nice as he came across, in fact like many others, he questioned why exactly the boy had been placed in Hufflepuff. Dean was known for being a player, and a charmer with the ladies. It made Ron sick to think how he could be applying all of this to Hermione. He wasn't quite sure whether it was in a protective way due to her being like a sister to him, or whether there was something else. Ron went with the first option. He was stubborn, and would never admit to himself that there were feelings for Hermione somewhere deep inside of him. Watching the scene unfold, Ron found his fists clenched. He pursed his lips and frowned,

"Well then you'd better jog on and keep training," he said, the tone of his voice coming off rather more bitter than he'd hoped.

Dean and a few of the Hufflepuff team looked at him peculiarly. With a last nod at Hermione, Dean and the team continued on.

The latter, however, sent Ron a distasteful look as he passed. He was clearly marking his territory.

* * *

Hermione didn't speak to Ron for the rest of the walk. She looked at him incredulously after she watched him be so rude to Dean. The boy had an emotional range of a teaspoon. He didn't know quite how to control his small amount of feelings. Hermione was in disgust with his bitter attitude, and this was evident as the trio arrived at Hagrid's and sat down with a cool glass of Butterbeer. Harry positioned himself awkwardly between Hermione and Ron, and attempted to make conversation with the two. Hagrid frowned, he sensed something negative.

"Deary me," he shook his head, "Whats got into these two?"

Hermione looked at Ron, who merely looked the opposite way in a huff. He really was such a child at times.

"Ronald here was very rude previously," she remarked.

"-I was not!" The boy's face was as fiery as his hair.

Hermione scoffed,

"Blatantly dismissing our friend like that? It was practically barbaric!"

Ron was laughing this time. He shook his head and scowled at Hermione,

"I think the boy's got a little more than friendship on his mind."

Hagrid looked at Harry blankly, before he mouthed the words _'Dean Thomas'_ to clear up the confusion. Hagrid nodded knowingly in return, suddenly distracted by the argument that was now inflating.

"-Just because he treats me nicely unlike other boys!"

"-He's not nice, Hermione! He's a player and he's no good to you!"

Hermione flung her arms into the air and sighed,

"Merlin's bones, Ron, he's just a friend!"

"Friends don't look at friends like that," Ron mumbled.

Hermione grabbed her school bag and stood abruptly. She scowled at Ron as she felt the anger rising inside of her. She'd never been this angry at anyone, especially not someone she considered to be one of her best friends.

"You're right," her voice was shaky as tears began to well up in her eyes, "Because friends never pay attention to each other and respect what they have. Even if me and Dean were more than friends, it's none of your business anyway."

She forcefully pushed her chair under the makeshift table and hurried outside as quickly as possible. The tears began to fall.

* * *

Draco stared at the ceiling of his dorm. He lay on the soft, green silk of his bedding, with his school shirt three quarters unbuttoned. It was too hot, and this made Draco agitated. Crabbe and Goyle were sat to his left, playing a game of exploding snap. Their constant jeering and imbecile ways made Draco cringe. It would be silent for merely no less then a minute, before one of the two would idiotically groan or grunt. He contemplated why he ever became friends with the two. Draco's only real friend was Blaise, who was at his desk on the right of Draco. However, he was no better as the constant scratching of his quill on the parchment surface had Draco questioning his sanity. He looked at the dark wizard and frowned. Draco couldn't decide whether Blaise was suffering, or whether he was enthusiastic about his homework. The last option brought a certain know-it-all to mind.

"Honestly," Draco scoffed, resting his hands behind his head and crossing his ankles, "I don't know who's worse, you or stupid Granger."

Blaise turned in his seat to face Malfoy. His expression was a mixture of disgust and amusement.

"If it helps me get pass my OWL's, and gets me through this essay in Potions, then I guess being like Granger isn't all that bad."

Draco rolled his eyes. He was sure that thanks to that comment, his sanity was now lost. Blaise turned back to his work momentarily, before facing the blonde once more.

"Speaking of Granger," Blaise continued, in return for a scowl for Malfoy, "I have to meet her at the library in around 10 minutes."

Blaise had known Draco a very long time, but never had he witnessed the expression the boy was now wearing in all of that time. Draco looked positively traumatized. His brow was furrowed to it's fullest extent, his eyes were wide in disbelief and his mouth curled into that which resembled eating something that was very much not palatable.

"Why the fuck are you doing that?!" he practically spat.

Blaise rolled his eyes. He knew Draco payed little attention to anyone else but himself, and so he expected this.

"Snape paired us up," Blaise explained, "I knew you were too busy with your own predicaments concerning Longbottom to notice."

Draco's eyes drifted from Blaise's to a spot on the floor. He looked deep in thought and Blaise realized this.

"Not to worry, though. We're just trying to get this essay done as soon as possible. That way the least time we have to spend with eachother."

This made Draco's mood no better. He sneered at Blaise once more.

"You too, huh?"

Blaise looked at the blonde blankly.

"If it's not you, it's Thomas who she's got under her wing. I don't know _who_ she thinks she is but the mudblood needs putting in her place."

"We only got paired up," Blaise watched Draco, treading on egg shells when he was in a mood like this, "It wasn't voluntary."

"-Nothing's changed this year. But somehow goody-two-shoes Granger seems to think she's above everyone. She _never_ was and she _never_ will be. The _quicker_ someone gives her a reality check, the _quicker_ she comes _crashing_ back down to earth."

Draco was possibly livid. He swung his legs to the side of the bed and sat up, leaning on his knees. His eyes were piercing, fully grey and colder than Blaise had witnessed in a long time. He wasn't quite sure how, but Draco could somehow manipulate and express infinite emotions through his eyes. The phrase 'the eyes are the gateway to the soul' quite literally applied to Draco. His breathing was uneven, not rapid but not normal either, and it seemed that all the muscles in his torso were tensed and strained. His left foot bounced continuously, the only part of his body that was showing the agitation deriving from his anger. Blaise leaned back in his chair, creating maximum space between him and the blonde. He was, however, not quite done with him. Blaise knew Draco's boundaries, and just how far to push them before they snapped. He'd never gone that far, and eyeing the Slytherin who was currently running his hands forcefully through his platinum hair, he would never attempt to either.

"Why're you so bothered man?" Blaise asked, attempting to keep his voice calm.

Draco's head snapped up. He looked at Blaise momentarily, as if the boy was beyond stupid. But in that moment, a small corner of Draco's mind nagged him. Similar to your conscience, always in the back of your mind, making you evaluate what you are doing, telling you the smart thing to do. But this time, that small part of his brain questioned him. He questioned himself. _Why was he so bothered? _Draco dismissed the thought instantly. The boy was not one to doubt himself, and nor did he often think about things that could confuse what he thought was right.

"Because," he paused, giving himself time to think, "-Because it only takes one _pathetic_ girl like her, to think she's everything. To think her ego represents something of her intelligence and social status. But it _doesn't_. And it's only a matter of time before she thinks she can treat me the way she thinks she can treat you and Thomas. She'll think I'll fall into her trap like you _imbeciles_ have. And then what will happen? All the filth and mudbloods will crawl out of the ninth ring of hell and follow suit. I don't know about you, see I've began doubting you since, but I _don't_ want to live in a world where _silly_ little girls like her think they're above us."

Draco hadn't planned on saying quite that much. He took a deep breath at the end of his speech, still retaining his scowl at Blaise. The latter seemed to be frowning at him much the same, but merely out of shock and disbelief than anger. Blaise was slightly ashamed. Draco could be so stuck in his ways. Blaise was never one to be in favour of the word _'Mudblood'_. It did no justice to those of magical status who descended from a complete muggle family. He also didn't see the need for the prejudice the blood status caused. But regardless, he was a Slytherin, and he had to retain his optimistic points of view for his own welfare. Draco noticed his disappointment. He could sense it, it was almost like he was allergic to the feeling and emotion it held. Nothing angered him more than when people were disappointed in him.

"You know about mine and Dean's family," he finally said, laying back on his bed and staring at the ceiling, "I have my reasons."

Blaise nodded in understatement. He turned back to his homework and sighed. That was all that was said on the topic of Granger.

* * *

"You two are so lucky," Lavender moaned.

Ginny and Hermione rolled their eyes in unison. The three girls sat on Hermione's bed. Though she hated Lavender, Hermione just had to deal with it as Lavender was a good friend of Ginny's and Hermione had no reason to disrupt that. However, she was finding it hard to enjoy the conversation that was taking place. The Gryffindor dorm was fervent, and the three girls wore merely vest tops, baggy t-shirts and pajama shorts. Hermione eyed Lavender's skimpy, spaghetti-strap tank that was far too small for her 'voluptuous' figure and grimaced. The girl was so desperate. This was reflected in their conversation.

"But you get to spend every day with him!" She continued, "-Ginny you literally spend nearly every second of your life in his presence!"

"-Trust me, being around Ron as much as I have been has well and truly scarred me for the rest of my life-"

"-I honestly don't see what you see in him," Hermione contributed, still angered with the incident earlier that day.

Lavender sighed. She was so cliché. The girl acted as if she was practically just pulled out of an American love-story. She sat upon Hermione's bed and hugged a pink, fluffy pillow that Hermione was glad Lavender called her own. Her eyes were twinkling and wide as if she'd never been so love-sick, and a small pout played across her glossy, pink lips as she sulked.

"He's so perfect," she began, "He's funny, and cute, and handsome, and muscly and his hair is such a brilliant shade of amber-"

Ginny and Hermione attempted to stifle their laughs, and their gagging.

"-Ginny! You _must_ have seen him naked at some point. I mean, he must have a nice body right? Does he have a sixpack? Is he toned? Is he, you know, _well equipt_?"

Ginny held her hand up abruptly to stop Lavender.

"Lavender, that is verging on incest and that is just _wrong_," she said, "Please, stop before I make you."

Hermione smirked. Lavender blushed instantly and grew quiet. It was silent for a good few minutes. It was an awkward silence, but a silence all the same, and regardless, Hermione was thankful she was not listening to Lavender's squeaky voice.

"He totally has a thing for you, Hermione, anyway."

_Spoke to soon._

"He does not!"

Ginny diverged the subject quickly to avoid complications. Lavender was eyeing Hermione distastefully, and Hermione didn't want to say something she'd later regret. Ginny of all people knew that the two Gryffindors were not the biggest fans of each other.

"Well that doesn't matter, because I saw you-know-who before, he was asking about you."

The redhead's eyes gleamed in excitement, as did Hermione's, and a small grin played upon her perfect features.

Hermione felt her stomach flip. She ignored the confused looking Lavender, who was practically craning forwards to hear into Ginny and Hermione's conversation.

"He didn't!" Hermione finally said.

Ginny nodded her head knowingly and continued,

"He asked where you were. He said he needed to talk to you about something."

A blush graced Hermione's cheeks, and she was sure it was not due to the heat of the room, which seemed to be rising in that moment. Ginny wiggled her eyebrows at Hermione, who acknowledged it, along with the thousands of other thoughts currently racing through her head.

"What do you think it's about?" Hermione asked.

Ginny shook her head and said she didn't know. Hermione supposed if she did, she would've told her anyway.

"But what I do know is that I for one need sleep."

Ginny pushed herself up off Hermione's bed, along with a pouting Lavender, who found the time to scowl at Hermione before strutting off to her bed. Hermione rolled her eyes and drew the curtains around her four-poster. She lay above the silk covers, it was far too hot to submerge beneath the infinite layers of duvets and sheets, and stared at the ceiling. Her thoughts were uncontrollable. Images flashed through her head of her and Ron's arguments. _'He's a player!' 'He's no good to you!' _Hermione frowned. Dean wasn't like that. Hermione knew he was a nice person. He was placed in Hufflepuff not Slytherin for a reason, and he was different. After all, he took the time to find Ginny and ask her where exactly she was. He must care for her. Hermione smiled.

She thought about his smile. He was so adorable. _Adorable.. _Hermione thought, _Adorable, cute, nice, cute.. _But there was something missing. Something Hermione knew she hadn't found yet. In him, or in anyone. And she questioned whether she would. But she didn't know quite what it was she was craving. With an optimistic thought, she rolled onto her side and agreed that beggars cannot be choosers. She was happy Dean payed any attention to her.

But in that moment, a small corner of Hermione's mind nagged her. Similar to your conscience, always in the back of your mind, making you evaluate what you are doing, telling you the smart thing to do. But this time, that small part of her brain questioned him. She questioned herself. _Was this right__?_

* * *

**A/N: **Hey guys! Well done, you reached the end! This chapter was just a fill in. It was so boring to write so apologies for the delay! I've been pretty busy too but I guess the next chapter will be up soon because I'm _so excited to write it_! There's a lot of tension and twists to come, I'm just so excited wow haha. Stay tuned!

_Don't forget review, good or bad, all feedback is appreciate and really motivates me to continue writing._

_Thanks, Amelia x_


	3. Karma's A Bitch

_I do not own any of the characters or story line of Harry Potter, and all credit goes to J.K Rowling, the legend herself._

**Please enjoy reading this, any comments or feedback is most appreciated. Enjoy!**

**Chapter Three.**

* * *

Hermione squinted slightly, rubbing her forehead. It seemed brighter than usual in her dorm. She forced her eyes open and looked around. She was lay in the exact position she had been last night, and figured she must of fallen asleep thinking about Dean. A crack of light shone through the gap in the curtains surrounding her bed. Hermione reached out her arm, behind the curtain and grabbed her clock. Hermione read the date that was curling its way around the hands of the clock. And then examined the time.

_Nine thirty._

Her eyes widened as she read the time again, she had to be sure.

_She was late._

The Gryffindor threw open the curtains around her bed and jumped up. A little too quickly at that. Her head spun as the blood rushed to other parts of her body, and she steadied herself on her bedside table. Hermione regained her balance and raced into the bathroom. When she realised she'd forgotten her clothes, she emerged a second later, grabbing her robes and uniform from the open trunk in front of her bed, and slamming it shut. Her bare feet padded across the cool wooden floor, descending the stairs two at a time and flying into the girl's bathroom. Once inside, she dressed in record speed. Hermione smiled to herself, quite proud of her accomplishment. That was, until, she realised she had her bra on over her shirt. _Come on, come on! _Hermione hurried herself, redressing properly and grabbing her toothbrush. Her brushing was aggressive and imprecise. When she had finished, she looked like some sort of deranged animal suffering from rabies. Hermione quickly washed her face and patted it dry. She threw her head back up and looked into the mirror. Her hair was currently diagnosed with un-cooperation and a life of its own. Basically, it was a mess. Quickly taking the hair elastic from around her wrist, she gathered her hair into a messy bun at the back of her head and secured it, loosening to top slightly and letting her outgrown bangs fall down.

Hermione leapt out of the bathroom and and raced back to her dorm, grabbing her bag book bag and throwing it onto her shoulder. She dived out the portrait hole, and just when she got half way down the hallway, did she realise she'd left her wand. With a groan, the Gryffindor ran back, through the portrait hole, through the common room, up the stairs, to the side of her bed, grabbing her wand and returning the way she'd came.

Hermione was not the best runner. She was no athlete either, and so when she descended the final flight of stairs to the Great Hall, she found herself running out of breath. Unable to stop her legs from moving, she bolted towards the doorway, and to her surprise, ran straight into a tall, hard barrier. Hermione stepped back immediately and doubled over slightly, attempting to catch her breath that was coming in short rasps. She looked up to where she had formerly collided, and what, more like whom, she had collided with.

"In a rush are we?" he chuckled, slick like honey.

Hermione blushed. She stood straight, smoothing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her stomach tightened, as she took in Dean Thomas stood before her in his tight, yellow Quidditch uniform. He held his broom tights in his left hand, and ran his right through his disheveled ash blonde curls. His uniform hugged his physique tightly. He was quite lanky, but muscular none the less. Dean grinned, he too a little out of breath due to the shock of the incident that took place.

Hermione finally cleared her throat, searching her mind for something to say,

"I overslept."

Dean laughed, rubbing his forehead,

"Not like the Granger we all know. I was beginning to worry."

Hermione found herself smiling. He was so_ cute._

"Why ever would you worry?" she asked.

"I thought you might of taken ill or something. And above all, that you wouldn't be able to attend the game today."

Hermione's smile faded. Guilt had taken over. She hadn't even considered going to watch the game that day, or to support Dean. How could she be so oblivious? Hermione wasn't a fan of Quidditch, but what she was a fan of was supporting her friends. And was most definitely a fan of Dean. The latter sensed her change of attitude as her brow furrowed. She looked away from his gaze slightly and fumbled with the strap of her bag.

"You are coming to watch, aren't you?" he asked, now frowning himself.

Hermione shook her head in disbelief of herself. She looked back to Dean and forced a smile,

"Of course I am," her voice was a little too chirpy, "I wouldn't miss it,"

"Good because I wanted you to know where to sit so you can...-"

Hermione lost interest in Dean. She heard a large amount of chatter and cheering. To her left, she looked just past Dean's shoulder, and to the corridor behind him. An ample group of males stalked forwards, laughing and shouting to each other. They each dressed in emerald green, their outfits identical to Dean's. The latter noticed Hermione's absence in attention and turned to look at what she was scowling at. The two watched as the Slytherin team advanced up the corridors, in their direction, or more to the point, to the Great Hall. As they reached the pair, Dean and Hermione took a step back out of their way. The rowdy teens barged through the archway, filing off into lines down each side of their house table. Many of them shouted over to the Hufflepuff, with remarks concerning the game that day and something along the lines of '_You noggin headed poo brains are gon' get crushed into a pumpkin pastie and eaten for tea, all for yours truly!' _from Crabbe. The boy began licking his fingers in response. Hermione rolled her eyes at the imbecile. She was doubtful whether the broom could even lift him off the ground, never mind fly with him skillfully. She wasn't quite sure how he ever got on the team.

"Just _ignore _them-" said Dean, before someone shouldered into him from behind.

He fell slightly, towards Hermione, who was now pressed up, flattened to the very wood of the large archway. A familiar pair of eyes pierced into Hermione's. They were grey, and colder than usual. She scowled in return. The boy broke her gaze, and looked to Dean who'd now taken a step back to regain his composure and give Hermione some space.

"Sorry mate," Draco laughed, "Didn't see you there."

Dean forced a laugh, though a sneer still resembled on both of their faces.

"No problem, Malfoy," He said, a little more bitter than he probably should've.

Draco eyed Dean for a moment, before looking to Hermione. Her heart raced in the moment as flashbacks ran through her brain of the night she saw the two. She saw Draco with his wand held to Dean's throat and the scowls playing across both of their faces. She looked away from the Slytherin's eyes, thankful she didn't have to speak to him.

"Well," Draco said, "I'll leave you two alone,"

He spoke in Dean's direction, but stared at Hermione who's breath was still recovering from her sprint.

"Game on then."

The blonde turned on his heel and went to join his friends, who gave him an unnecessary round of applause as he sat down.

Hermione turned to face Dean, who was eyeing her from head to toe. Somehow, he had his hand resting just next to Hermione's head, on the wall. He was quick, Hermione didn't notice when he put it there. He studied her confused face, to the way she pulled her book bag securely on her shoulder. Hermione felt uncomfortable under his gaze. She felt the need to squirm and tell him to stop. But he looked up to her eyes and spoke,

"So I'll see you at the game, right?" he said, his voice low and deep.

Hermione nodded hastily in response, as the boy gave a final nod and pushed himself up off the wall. He stalked off down the corridor, in the direction the Slytherin team had come from, leaving Hermione to catch her breath and calm herself. She looked down, swallowing deeply, before leaning up off the wall and walking into the Great hall. As she approached the Gryffindor table, she ignored the turned heads and whispers of many. Instead, she slid into the empty space next to Ginny and instantly started piling food onto her plate. She wasn't quite sure why. She'd lost her appetite.

Ginny had watched the whole scene. When Hermione sat next to her, she turned to face her best friend.

"What was all that about?" she asked, ignoring the whispering girls, much like Hermione.

"Dean wants me to go to the game today," Hermione explained, her voice hushed as she shifted the food around her plate aimlessly.

Ginny broke a smile. She squealed a little, trying to excite Hermione, who seemed to be feeling anything but excited. Ginny raised her eyebrows,

"This is good!" she said, "Why aren't you happy about this?"

"Because,"

"Because what?"

Hermione rested her fork on her plate and sighed.

"Because I don't want to go on my own. Because I don't like Quidditch. Because I don't know whether this is right and because I don't know whether I like Dean. And because whenever I'm around him and he's with Malfoy he treats me differently. And because I don't want to witness Dean lose."

Ginny wasn't expecting that. She told her friend that she'd go to the game with her, although she couldn't fix all of her other problems. She also told Hermione to have some faith in Dean and the Hufflepuff team. Hermione felt somewhat guilty again. Ginny also said that she could explain everything else after the game, because right now, that was more important.

* * *

The heat was unbearable. Hermione and Ginny made their way towards the Quidditch pitch, along with many other students. Most of them were Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, all predicting the results of the game. It seemed that even the Hufflepuffs had little faith in their team too. As the pair descended down the large field, fanning themselves with a spare piece of parchment, Hermione spotted that arrogantly gleaming, blonde hair. She eyed Malfoy, who was positioned just behind a pillar outside the grounds. He seemed to be talking to Crabbe, who was nodding obediently. Draco looked around, cautiously. His face was serious, his brow furrowed. Hermione craned her neck to see the pair, watching the scenario in between the heads of passers by. She slowed a little, as Malfoy began reaching into his back pocket. He brought out a small pouch, and jingled it in the air. Crabbe seemed to understand, and nodded once more. Malfoy nodded too, and dropped the pouch in Crabbe's hand. He slid it discretely into his back pocket, receiving a pat on the shoulder from the blonde.

Hermione felt a hand tug at hers, and she turned to face Ginny instantly,

"Come on," she pulled Hermione's hand gently, "What're you looking at?"

Hermione shook her head, dismissing the comment. The two continued walking, Hermione taking a short glance back to Malfoy. He was alone now, Crabbe had gone. The Slytherin had a small smile playing across his angular features. He looked up from the grass and spotted a pair of chocolatey brown orbs staring back at him. Over the long distance that separated the two, Draco watched Hermione carefully, as she looked away instantly in response and entered the Quidditch ground. He kicked a stone as he made his way back to the changing rooms. What Granger didn't know, wouldn't hurt her.

* * *

"AND THE SCORE IS CURRENTLY 30-40 IN FAVOUR OF HUFFLEPUFF..." Lee Jordan exclaimed over the stadium microphone.

Hermione clasped her hands. She couldn't believe Hufflepuff were currently winning! This, too, seemed to be the thoughts of Ginny. The redhead took a hold of Hermione's hand and squeezed it re-reassuringly. The two smiled at each other before turning back to the game.

"AND IT LOOKS AS THOUGH MALFOY'S GOT A HUNCH!"

The crowd looked at Malfoy in unison. He took a sharp, 90 degree dive, speeding through the air. Dean seemed to see this too, and along with Lee Jordan's commentating, followed the Slytherin, hot on his heels. As Draco passed Crabbe, who seemed to be holding his beater's bat menacingly, the blonde nodded in his direction, and Crabbe nodded back. Draco took a swift turn and began to pick up speed, as Dean followed him, not too far behind.

"-IT LOOKS AS THOUGH MALFOY'S SPOTTED THE SNITCH! BUT THOMAS IS CLOSE BEHIND!"

Hermione found herself standing on her feet, craning her neck to see along with many other fans. Her eyes traced the two chasers, following their every move.

"-AND A BLUDGER JUST MISSES ANTHONY RICKET! AND NOW IT'S FLYING TOWARDS CRABBE, BUT MALFOY'S STILL ON THE CHASE!-"

The Slytherin team were a man down, yet they played better than Hermione had seen. She found it almost odd how they weren't winning. As Lee Jordan's voice echoed around the stadium, her eyes instantly flickered to Crabbe, who was holding his bat at the ready.

"-MALFOYS TAKEN A SHARP TURN!-"

Hermione's heart caught in her chest. She watched as Malfoy came soaring in the direction of Crabbe, Dean very close to his side. She shook her head, _no, _she thought, _no! _But it was too late. The inevitable happened. It turned out Malfoy hadn't spotted the snitch at all. The bludger came flying towards Crabbe, who hit it forcefully. He smiled, watching it repel in the other direction. It looked as though it would hit Malfoy, and the crowd stood on their feet. But Hermione knew.

"No!" she shouted, in return for a curious look from Ginny.

Malfoy, inches away from the bludger, soared upwards instantly. And Dean had no time. The bludger flew right into his side, connecting with his rib-cage and forcing him of his broom. The crowd gasped in unison, but no noise escaped Hermione's mouth. She watch, speechless, as the blur of his yellow figure, fell, and fell, and fell as if it were in slow motion. And he hit the ground as hard as the bludger hit him.

"-AND DEAN THOMAS IS DOWN!"

But Hermione couldn't hear Lee, or the crowd, who were booing in unison. She stood, ready to descend the stairs and run to Dean's side. But Ginny held her back instantly. She tried to free herself from the readhead's grip, but Ginny was strong, and she was helpless. Hermione watched as Malfoy swooped down on his broom, to Dean's side, and leapt off it instantly. He kneeled next to the unconscious Hufflepuff. Hermione shouted in objection. She didn't want Draco anywhere near Dean. And the tears began to well up in her eyes, as Ginny pulled her to her seat and hugged her tightly.

* * *

_A day later..._

Hermione didn't like hospitals. She didn't like being ill, or being around people who were ill. But this time she was a visitor, not a patient, and therefore she went ahead regardless. Smoothing a strand of hair into her messy bun, she opened the doors of the West Wing. They creaked tremendously, and Hermione cringed as she attempted to be quiet. As much as she tried, Hermione just couldn't be silent as she strode down the aisle to the only bed occupied. Her heels clicked on the stone tiled floor, and the sound rebounded throughout the lonely room, many times louder than she had hoped. She stopped, just before the metal frame, and looked. Dean lay in the bed. His arm was in a cast, and propped up awkwardly. He wore a plaid pajama shirt, which was open slightly in the heat. He smiled as Hermione walked in.

"Nice of you to visit, Granger," he said.

Hermione didn't like it when he called her Granger. It sounded all too much like a familiar Slytherin. The more she spent time with Dean, the more she began to realise that he and Draco were very similar.

"Hermione," she corrected, and he nodded,

"Forgive me."

Hermione sat gently in a seat that was already pulled up next to his bed.

"You've had visitors?" she asked,

Dean nodded.

"Who came?"

He said it was only a few members of his team. Hermione smiled sympathetically.

"Crabbe also came too," he said finally.

Hermione was taken aback. She knew that Crabbe was not one to apologize. Dean sensed this and laughed a little. Hermione noticed him wince slightly. She presumed the bludger must have done some damage to his ribs.

"He apologized and left. It was strangely unlike Crabbe, but I guess I can't comment. Accidents happen."

A pain struck through Hermione's heart, she held Dean's hand gently in hers. She knew it wasn't an accident. But what was her voice against a whole team of Slytherins, especially Draco Malfoy? Dean eyed Hermione's hands on his, as she watched him intently, and forced a smile.

"Dean," Hermione began, but paused to think. She looked at her lap in thought, and Dean watched attentively. After a period of silence, Dean spoke.

"Yes, Grang- Hermione?"

Hermione looked up and smiled.

"I was just wondering," she continued, "Do you know it wasn't an accident-"

"-What?" Dean said, frowning at Hermione.

The Gryffindor took a deep breath, and went to speak, but was shortly cut off by an alarm that was coming from a clock next to them. Shortly afterwards, Madame Pomfrey appeared from behind a curtain separating Dean off from the ward and smiled.

"It's time to take your medicine, Mr Thomas," she said, and then eyed Hermione, "If you'll excuse us, Miss Granger."

Hermione nodded instantly and stood, allowing the witch to do her work. She stood at the end of Deans bed, lost in her thoughts of whether to tell him how before the game, Malfoy had paid Crabbe to hit Dean. Once again, she doubted their friendship. However, she was snatched from her train of thought as she heard the door to the Hospital Wing open. Her stomach clenched as she recognized the Slytherin, strutting in her direction. He scowled at Hermione, robes blowing behind him as he advance across the small space that separated them. When he reached her, he stood by her side and looked at Dean. The latter nodded at the Slytherin whilst drinking some concoction from a goblet he held.

Hermione turned to face the tall boy. Dean became distracted whilst talking to the nurse, and Hermione seized the opportunity.

"I don't know what you think you're doing here," she whispered with a harsh tone, "And I don't see what business you have here either,"

Draco snarled,

"-I don't know what you're talking about Granger," he said, eyeing Dean who was still conversing with Madame Pomfrey

"-You know exactly what I'm talking about," she spat, sneering at Draco.

Draco clenched his bottom jaw and turned to face her. She looked up to the Slytherin, and noticed just how tall he really was. She'd never been in this close proximity with him which she was enduring now, and quite frankly, she wasn't sure whether it scared her, or made her feel quite the opposite. He looked down into her eyes, and she looked back just as well. Draco examined her from head to toe, jaw still clenched. He lingered on her mouth for a second, before penetrating back into her eyes.

"Could you leave your boyfriend just for one, tiny second, and give us a little privacy? Or are you too desperate to do that?"

Hermione scowled at him. The boy had some nerve. But she realised this was not the place nor the time to take up the opportunity to argue with him, and so she turned on her heel, and walked around Draco, heading to the exit.

Draco studied the space where she stood, as if she was still there, and took a deep breath. His heart had caught in his chest, and he wasn't quite sure the reason why. Neither did he want to think about it.

"Are you just going to stand there, or?"

Draco turned to look at Dean. Madame Pomfrey had disappeared again, and Dean was studying him with a furrowed brow. Draco, regaining his composure, eyed the seat beside him and sat in it casually. He leant forwards on his knees and shook his head.

"In a bit of a state, aren't we?"

"What do you want, Malfoy," Dean snarled.

Draco had tried to be nice, but that was not what he came here for. Quickly turning to check they were fully alone, he began speaking in a low, threatening tone.

"I told you not to do something stupid like this," he said.

"What exactly do you mean?"

"I think the questions is why are you still with Granger?"

Dean eyed Draco skeptically.

"Why do you care?"

"You see this?" Draco rested his hand on Dean's cast. The latter winced a little, as he shifted his arm.

"It's called karma. You're getting so caught up in Quidditch and look where it's fucking got you?"

"Once again, why do you care?"

Draco leaned into Dean, closing the proximity, his eyes now a stormy, chilling grey. Dean scowled at him in return, but he couldn't lie that he didn't like it when Draco was like this.

"Because, Thomas. Because you're stupid. Because you're family is a pureblood name and you're ruining it. Because on the summer before we returned here, my Father payed a visit to your Mother. We both know what's going on between them. And poor little Daddy Thomas is clueless. Do you think I want my Father adding another name to the list of people that he's fucking behind my Mother's back?! My Father made an unbreakable vow whilst we were as oblivious as your Dad was, and he swore that if your stupid Mum didn't tell anyone about their affair, he'd get me to watch over you and make sure you weren't a disappointment like your Father."

Blaise shook his head,

"If I wasn't in these casts right now, you'd be dead Malfoy. You'd be dead under your pile of lies,"

Draco scoffed,

"You think I'm finished?"

Blaise watched Draco, his eyes squinted and breathing becoming restless.

"And do you know what happened after that?_ Your _Mother spoke to _me. _She told me about how your Dad is stupid, and pathetic, and how she wished that her son had turned out like me, and how I was the son she never had. Because your Father has downright feeble and piteous morals. She knew this year was important and she knew that you were going to mess up like him. You're the only one left to continue the Thomas family name and she knew you'd pick some idiot or mudblood, _Granger. _And do you want to mess up? Hm? Do you want to be a fucking disappointment to the whole of your family? Because if you carry on this way, you're going to. My fathers life depends on this. And you better play by the fucking rules, Thomas, or I swear to god I'll fuck you up. I've done it before, I'll do it again."

Draco stood from his chair and turned to leave. He halted momentarily, and looked over his shoulder,

"Do _not _mess this up."

It was easier for him. He knew what to say, what to do, he knew the right thing that was for Dean. Because he was in the exact same position as he was, and lived by the exact rules. He was a pureblood, and so much was expected of him. But he lived the life that he was trying so hard not to disappoint everyone with. And to sit and watch Dean throw all his morals away and do what mostly made him happy, was something Draco could never do. Or something he wasn't brave enough to do. He didn't want to watch someone mess up their lives, when he was messing up his own.

* * *

**A/N: **I am SO sick of writing all this Hermione/Dean stuff. Urgh, it makes me sick. But it is over soon, I promise! So now you get an understanding of _some _of Draco's motivation to 'protect' Dean. THIS NEXT CHAPTER IS A GOOD ONE, AND THE ONE AFTER I'M SO EXCITED. Dramione is growing out my bones I'm just exploding for the scene where I can finally start writing it. Also, FF isn't letting my change chapter names, any advice? I hate the whole _Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three _shit.

_Don't forget review, good or bad, all feedback is appreciate and really motivates me to continue writing._

_Thanks, Amelia x_


	4. Party On

_I do not own any of the characters or story line of Harry Potter, and all credit goes to J.K Rowling, the legend herself._

**Please enjoy reading this, any comments or feedback is most appreciated. Enjoy!**

**Chapter Four.**

* * *

"Do you have any spare parchment?"

Hermione glanced up from her open book and looked to Blaise, who was currently surrounded by stacks of literature and stray pieces of parchment. She eyed the piece before him, which was full to the last centimeter with manuscript writing. The two had met up as planned to finish the last half of their essay, which was coming along rather quickly much to Hermione's bliss. The weather was still mildly warm, and so many students had vacated the school to make the most of the lurking heat. This was just as pleasing, as it allowed Hermione and her partner to progress through the essay without disruption. That was, apart from the present one. Lifting her own sheet of work, she gently withdrew a new piece of parchment from her pile beneath and leaned across the canyon of books to hand it to Blaise. The latter thanked Hermione appreciatively.

"I presume it's time for a break, anyway," Hermione said, placing the open book on her lap beside her and stretching her neck.

Blaise nodded in agreement, and relaxed back into the plush, leather armchair he sat in across from Hermione. He crossed his ankles above a pile of books on the table and spread his arms along the back of his chair. Hermione examined his arrogant posture. It reminded her vaguely of a certain blonde Slytherin, but she supposed spending so much time with him would have had some sort of influence over Blaise. She was right. Hermione's mind wandered to her incident with Malfoy the day before. She also pondered over the scene in which she witnessed just before the match. Hermione was not an imbecile. Like it or not, the whole school knew that. And so she knew Malfoy had instructed Crabbe to pull the barbaric move he had done. Her brow furrowed slightly, as she mused over the cracks in the foundations of Dean and Malfoy's _friendship._

"Something troubling you, Granger?" Blaise's smooth voice called, with a slight etch of amusement cracking the silence.

Hermione instantly snapped out of the trance she had fallen under, and glanced at Blaise, who had a slight smirk playing across his mouth. She chose to ignore him, not giving him the satisfaction he craved. The Slytherin removed his legs from the table and leant forwards on his knees. He spoke in a hushed voice, as though there were actually other people in the library, who had interest on listening in to their conversation,

"Worried about your boyfriend?"

"-He is not my boyfriend!" Hermione snapped, a little louder than she should have.

Her voice echoed through the library, in return for a stern look from Madame Pince. She looked away instantly, feeling her cheeks inflame and glow a deep shade of red. Blaise simply smiled, and relaxed back into his seat again, shaking his head at Hermione. The latter pursed her lips disapprovingly.

"I'm sure he'll be fine. Was simply just not quick enough on the ball, or should we say bludger, to meet Malfoy's agility."

Hermione felt the anger rise through her body. She clenched her fists in attempt to calm herself, as she felt her heart murmur slightly.

"I wouldn't exactly call it _agility _that Malfoy possesses," she manged to say, rather calmly, "What he did on that pitch was practically _barbaric. _And I think you and I both know exactly what his intention was to-"

At that moment, a small group of Ravenclaw girls made their way past Hermione and Blaise's table. They giggled in hushed voices, and a little more confident blonde from the back waved excitedly. Hermione glanced at Blaise, who nodded politely at the girls and waved with lack of enthusiasm. The girls giggled once more and continued walking. Hermione shook her head in disbelief. There were merely to more rows of shelves behind them, each stocked with the oldest books Hermione had come across. All of them had little use to the students, as they covered topics along the lines of _A Guide to Slaying a Grindelow _to _Types of Cauldron and Their True Meanings. _The group of girls, about three or four from what Hermione could make out, had merely ventured their way to catch a glimpse of Blaise in hope he would talk to them.

"Ridiculous," Hermione murmured, absent mindedly.

Blaise chuckled in a low, purring voice, and quirked an eyebrow,

"Jealous, Granger?"

"Of your silly little fanclub?" Hermione rolled her eyes, "I'd rather eat my own foot."

"I forgot, you go for Hufflepuffs," Blaise taunted.

Hermione shot him a glance that reflected the phrase _'If looks could kill', _and Blaise took this as a warning not to go further.

"It's not all that bad you know. I mean, for example, I heard Ravenclaws are having a party tonight. It gives me the excuse to go," the dark wizard shrugged his shoulders.

"And are you going to?" Hermione questioned him. Surprisingly, she already knew about the party, as Luna had invited her.

Blaise shook his head in return.

"If I stepped one foot in there, I can't imagine coming out alive."

Hermione smiled slightly, straightening the pile of parchment after parchment she'd written beside her.

"What about you, are you going?" Blaise questioned, though he knew the answer and simply attempted to amuse himself.

"Luna invited me," Hermione began, receiving a fake look of interest from Blaise, "But, no. There's better things to be doing in life that partying."

"Oh of course," Blaise mused, "The importance of pouring through book after book and reading _Wise Witches Weekly _is so much more thrilling than going to a party."

Hermione eyed Blaise skeptically. He was similar to her in many ways, when it came to studying and his approach to learning. Hermione presumed he'd be studying too, rather than attending a party.

"What're you trying to say?" she continued, raising her chin with an air of authority.

"Look," Blaise leaned forwards once again, his voice rather less taunting that before and his eyes locked on Hermione's, "I just think that you ought to have a break every once in a while. Don't think I'm doing this for my undying concern for you-"

Hermione scoffed, shaking her head and looking at the book beside her,

"-But our exams are months away. And a small party never did anybody harm, don't you agree?"

A small knot found it's way into Hermione's stomach, as she furrowed her brow again. She glanced back to Blaise's eyes, which flashed with a knowing look. Hermione had the temptation to ask why if he was so pushing of this party, he was not going himself. But she thought it better not to, and instead shrugged her shoulders slightly and turned back to her essay.

* * *

Hermione hated hospitals. She found no joy in being around those who were ill, diseased, or dying. She supposed, really, that was why she was hardly ever ill. She was so afraid of those who were ill, she would sanitize at any given chance and distance herself from the diagnosed as much as possible. However, Hermione attempted to forget that as she approached the Hospital Wing, nervously fiddling with the sleeve of her robe. This was the second time she had been in the hospital wing that week, and only ever had she been in it before, twice, once when the ever famous Gilderoy Lockheart vanished the bones from Harry's arm in first year, and once when, involuntarily, Hermione had been submitted to the hospital after being petrified in her second year. Despite this, Hermione pushed through the large oak doors of the Hospital Wing and stepped inside. It was lonely and silent, as usual. That was also something Hermione didn't like. Hospitals practically drained you of happiness due to their misery and dying hope. She advanced forwards, noticing happily that only one other bed was occupied, by what looked like a 4th year Hufflepuff called Myra Thompson, though Hermione couldn't be sure due to the ever-growing boils on her face. Regardless, Hermione smiled politely at the girl, and continued towards the back of the room where Dean usually lay. She turned to her left, but halted slightly as she noticed Dean's absence. The sheets on the bed where fresh, and crisp, and neatly folded around the bed. The seat Hermione had sat beside Dean upon, was now fixed by the side of the small beside table, which was empty of the Get Well Soon cards and items Dean had received. Hermione glanced around the ward, checking to see he had not been moved to a different bed, or was walking around, but they too were a disappointment. Only when a stern voice interrupted, did Hermione become disrupted from her train of thoughts.

"Discharged this morning," a cold, female voice replied.

Turning on her heel, Hermione noticed Madame Pomfrey, who was pouring over a clipboard and paying as little attention to her as possible.

Hermione wet her lips, fumbling to find the words to say.

"Are you sure? I mean, no one said-"

"-Do you see Mr Thomas in that bed? Hm?" the Nurse interrupted, glancing at Hermione before returning her focus to her clipboard.

Hermione felt almost foolish. Though, who could blame her? No one had told her that Dean had been discharged, not even himself, who Hermione thought would be more than likely to have searched for her to inform her. Her stomach rumbled with neglect. She hadn't even thought about having lunch before coming to visit Dean, and the nervousness and apprehension had caused her to lose her appetite anyway. Hermione thanked Madame Pomfrey briefly, before rushing out of the Hospital Wing as quickly as her feet could carry her. She did not aim to spend any more time in there than necessary.

* * *

Hermione had no idea where her feet were carrying her. Her thoughts were a reel of theories, and questions, and confusion regarding Dean, and his '_friendship'_ with Malfoy, and flashbacks of the Quidditch game. By the time she reached the Great Hall, absent mindedly fleeting down stairs after stairs and corridor after corridor, she was deep within her thoughts. That was, until, once again she was disrupted as someone called her name.

"Hermione!"

The Gryffindor turned immediately, breaking from her trance that had set upon her. She recognized the boyish smile that was approaching her, and she found herself smiling too. Dean jogged slowly over to Hermione, closing in the small distance that separated them. Hermione eyed his left arm, which was casually finding it's way into his slack's pocket.

"I see you're well healed," she commented, gesturing to his arm.

Dean's smile faded a little as he looked at his arm and back to Hermione.

"I was discharged this morning, Pomfrey said everything was fine," he continued, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, the thought completely swept my mind-"

"-It's fine," Hermione smiled. Although, it wasn't fine really, not at all. Hermione imagined she would be Dean's priority, but clearly not. "I imagine you had your friends to talk to, and to catch up with."

The two turned slightly to glance at Dean's friends, who were mostly his team mates, as they sat at the Hufflepuff table watching the scene unfold. Many of them were whistling, or hollering, and there was the odd kissing face here and there. Hermione rolled her eyes in disgust. She wondered how exactly Dean had not ended up like them.

"Ignore them, they're unbelievably childish at times," Dean said, taking Hermione's arm gently and turning her attention back to him.

Hermione smiled feverishly.

"So," Dean continued, a little more enthusiasm in his voice, "Anything exciting to tell me? Fill me in on the gossip, what about this Ravenclaw party tonight?"

With a small laugh, Hermione shook her head, glancing at Dean's face which was beaming with his child like grin.

"You and I both know that Hermione Granger is not the biggest gossip of the school," she rolled her eyes slightly, "But Luna did invite me to the Ravenclaw party."

Dean's grin lost it's sincerity, as he blinked a few times in concentration.

"But you're not going, right?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

Hermione eyed him skeptically, a little confused by his sudden change of behavior. She knew that Dean would most definitely be going, and she almost expected him to encourage her to go too. Much like Blaise had, strangely.

"Well," Hermione began, wetting her lips as she stuttered, "Well, no. I wasn't going to. But, it's just- well, are you going?"

Dean nodded his head repeatedly,

"Yeah, I'm going. I mean, I wasn't going to, but the boys wanted to go so I went, I didn't really have a choice, really..." he laughed nervously.

Hermione also nodded in understanding, but continued the matter nevertheless.

"I'm not the type of person to go to parties at all, but someone sort of, advised me, you could say," she glanced over to the Slytherin table, and noticed strangely that both Malfoy and Blaise were watching intently as Hermione and Dean conversed. She felt her stomach knot a little, as she frowned in their direction, "-I guess one needs a release every once in a while."

Dean noticed Hermione's absence in attention to him. He glanced over his shoulder briefly, looking in the direction Hermione was staring. He turned back, with an expression that reflected his chagrin.

"This person who _advised_ you," he rolled his eyes, "Well, you really don't have to go if you don't want to."

Hermione returned her concentration to Dean, who was examining her from head to toe. She hated it when he did that. It made her want to squirm under his gaze and tell him to stop instantly. It was the side of Dean that didn't appeal to Hermione, and she tended to try and avoid coming across it regularly. With a quick clear of her throat, his eyes instantly return to hers, as she spoke.

"Well I couldn't possibly leave you with your _barbaric _friends, with no one decent to actually talk to. I guess that just gives me all the more reason to go."

Dean forced a smile, and nodded slightly.

"I guess it does," he said, with a distinct lack of enthusiasm in his voice, "I'll see you there, then."

Hermione also nodded, as Dean examined her with a strange expression Hermione couldn't quite make out, before turning and heading back to the Hufflepuff table. Though she was now alone, Hermione could still feel a presence on her, watching her, much like she felt when Dean was examining her before. She glanced briefly, back to the Slytherin table, and was instantly met by a pair of glacial, bitter grey eyes. Hermione took a breath instantly. Blaise had now become deep in conversation with what looked to be Theodore Nott, a tall, handsome Slytherin who was well know for his knowledge. Draco Malfoy however, had acquired a deep interest and concentration in staring Hermione out with a complete look of what seemed to be a mixture of disgust and intriguement. She turned instantly, breaking the gaze between the two, and hurried to the Gryffindor table feeling the heat rise on her cheeks. She detested when Malfoy stared at her like that. Like she was some filth that his large, Italian leather, booted foot had stood on, and he was examining her in hatred before he would flick her off his sole. Only when she noticed Lavender, who was walking, arms linked with Pavarati Patil, did Hermione snap out of her thoughts.

"Lavender?" she called, receiving a glance from the blonde who told her friend she would meet her outside in a minute.

Hermione approached her, which Lavender didn't look too happy about. She raised an eyebrow, inspecting her perfectly manicured nails.

"Yes, Hermione?"

If it wasn't for what she was about to ask, Hermione probably wouldn't have been so nice to Lavender, along side her cockiness and superior attitude.

"Can I ask a favour, please?" Hermione said, lightly.

Lavender looked almost intrigued.

"Depends what it is," she said, folding her arms across her chest.

"I need you to cover for me tonight-"

"-You're going to the party, aren't you?" Lavender said instantly.

Hermione paused for a moment, her mouth in a small 'O' shape. She wasn't actually going to tell Lavender where she was going, but she wasn't expecting her to know, either.

"Well, yes, but- How did you know?"

"It's not merely a coincidence that on the one night there's a party, you approach me, and are about to ask me to cover for you on prefect patrols," the blonde said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"-However," she continued, "I am in doubt as to the fact that it's _you, _Hermione Granger, who is skipping patrols?"

To be truthful, Hermione was also beginning to doubt herself. However, she could enjoy the festivities all she liked. She supposed one night, that was out of many nights she had abide the rules, shouldn't hurt.

"Could you please just tell anyone who asks that I have taken ill, and don't want to be disturbed in my dorm please? I'm sure you can find someone who'll cover for me on patrols."

Lavender nodded in reply, before straightening up and quirking an eyebrow at Hermione.

"What's in this for me?" she asked.

Hermione had saw this coming. Lavender Brown was a selfish girl who rarely did anything for anyone else unless it benefited her, too.

"I don't know," Hermione said, hastily, "But we can sort something out, anything. Okay?"

Lavender seemed satisfied with this answer, and nodded happily with a small smirk playing across her pink, glossed lips. She turned, with a small bounce in her step, and headed out the Great Hall, in hope of finding Pavarati.

* * *

That night came far too quickly for Hermione's liking. She had, earlier that day, informed Ginny of what exactly was going on. Ginny had obliged to come with Hermione to this party, as she too was interested by Dean's curious behavior. There was also the condition that Ginny loved attending parties anyway, which made persuading her a whole lot easier for Hermione. The party was addressed 'casual', therefore the girls did not have to dress up. In hopes of not attracting any attention to this party, Ravenclaw had asked people to dress mainly in their uniforms, or normal clothes. Hermione felt no urge to dress extravagantly, and so she simply wore a baby pink blouse, with her trustful denim jeans and brow ballet flats. Ginny, too, wore something along the lines of Hermione, sporting a navy and white striped top, with burgundy jeans and some old brown ankle boots she'd found in her trunk.

The two headed out at around seven o'clock. Curfew for students in Ginny's year or above was eight, but, being a prefect, Hermione was allowed out that little longer. All they had to do was ensure they arrived at the Ravenclaw Common Room before Ginny's curfew, and they decided they would figure out how to get back later on. All was successful.

Hermione and Ginny sat in the Ravenclaw Common Room. Upon arrival, Hermione and Ginny had noticed that many of the attendants had ignored the dress code completely. Many Ravenclaw girls, the odd Hufflepuff and a couple of Gryffindors, had turned up wearing short, tight dresses. One girl even wore a cropped top and the tiniest skirt Hermione had ever seen possible. She rolled her eyes in disgust as the girl who Hermione recognised as a Hufflepuff, flicked her long, straight, blonde hair over her shoulder and turned her back on Hermione. Most of the boys wore casual clothes. Either their school uniform, or average clothes like Chudley Cannons t-shirts Hermione had seen Ron wore frequently, and jeans.

The music was quite loud, and Hermione was obviously not used to the party atmosphere. She sat, along side Ginny, on a brown, leather sofa in the center of the room. To her left, was Terry Boot, and what looked to be Isobel MacDougal, talking rather closely to eachother. To her right, was Micheal Corner, who seemed to already be passed out within the first hour of the party.

Hermione had been searching the room for Dean all night. She hadn't seen him so far. He'd seemed rather excited about the party, before he knew Hermione was going, that was, and so she was more than sure he would turn up. Taking a sip of her Pumpkin juice, she felt a dip in the sofa beside her.

"Glad you could make it."

Hermione turned to see Dean, who was relaxed back into the sofa with his arm along the back rest, behind Hermione. He wore a plain yellow t-shirt, which Hermione noticed looked a little too small for him. It hugged his muscles tightly, showing his bulging arms and toned torso. She imagined he may have bought a size too small for this effect. Paired with some denim jeans and black trainers, he looked rather... _cute _in his causal clothes. Hermione smiled in response. Dean attempted to smile too, but Hermione notice the dilation in his pupils, and eyed the drink in his hand. He'd obviously been drinking.

Dean noticed Hermione's eyes trace over his drink and his face. He looked to her glass of pumpkin juice on the coffee table and chuckled.

"Pumpkin juice, really Granger?" he said, with a smile that soon faded as Hermione frowned. "-Sorry, Hermione, I mean."

Hermione dismissed his comment. She guessed he wasn't quite used to calling her Hermione yet. The nickname Granger still didn't sit well with her, though, and still made her think of that certain blonde Slytherin.

Eyeing the glass in his hand, that was still a large percentage full, Dean held out his drink to Hermione, and nodded at it.

"Try some," he said, that haunting smile returning to his face.

Hermione shook her head with a slight smile,

"I don't drink," she said, a little loudly attempting to talk over the increasing volume of music.

Dean leaned forwards, closing in on Hermione. He stopped until his face was barely an inch away from hers. She felt her breath catch slightly, as she attempted to keep a calm face.

"Just try some," he whispered, the heat of his heavily intoxicated breath dancing on Hermione's face. She held her breath slightly as the strong smell of alcohol lingered in the air.

Hermione shook her head once again,

"No thankyou," she said, trying to be polite.

Dean held her stare, but Hermione broke away as she watched him bring the glass up towards her lips. She inched away slightly, attempted to create as much space between her mouth, Dean, and the glass, as she could.

At that moment, there was a large stir of jeers. There was the odd cheer, some, boos, and some general animosity of chatter. Dean halted, turning his head to see what was happening. Hermione felt a sigh of relief escape her chest. She inched backwards, expecting to bump slightly into Ginny, but she turned to see Ginny had left her side during her and Dean's incident. Thinking of Dean, she turned back, to see the Hufflepuff slam his drink on the table and throw his arms along the back of the sofa once more.

"_Why_ did they have to come?" He grunted, barely audible, but Hermione caught it just about.

She glanced from Dean, who's face seemed to be resembling that of a sulking child, as he stared into the burning fire and reached for his drink again. Hermione looked towards the portrait hole that had swung open. Suddenly, she was feeling quite the same as Dean. Swaggering through the crowd of people, was Draco Malfoy and his trusty sidekick, Blaise Zabini. Malfoy looked practically amused. He wore a large smirk on his face, alongside his school shirt that was undone by around five buttons, his Slytherin tie, untied and hanging loosely around his neck, and his hands stuffed in his pockets. Blaise looked similar, though a little more put together. Hermione eyed the Ravenclaw girls, who were now talking in hushed voices and pointing at the Slytherin pair. As Malfoy and Blaise made their way across the Common Room towards Hermione and Dean, Draco shot a glance at the Gryffindor and sneered.

"Nice party, huh, Dean?" Draco joked, still staring at Hermione, who was trying to give Draco her best '_You're so pathetic_' look.

Dean stared into the fire, his eyes reflecting the flames. Hermione hadn't see Dean quite like this before, and she eyed him cautiously.

"Whatever, Malfoy," he said, through gritted teeth.

Hermione looked between Dean and the Slytherins. She noticed Blaise smirk as she looked at him with a confused expression. Hermione was sure she could recall the boy saying he wasn't coming tonight. Draco swung his arm around Blaise's shoulder as the two weaved their way past Hermione and Dean. Ginny took a seat beside Hermione as Dean instantly stood and strode in the same direction as Draco and Blaise. The red-head asked what had happened, explaining she thought she should've given Hermione and Dean some space. The brunette told her that she had no idea, and that she was just as confused and clueless. Ginny frowned in response, and Hermione felt an uncomfortable squirm in her stomach. She had a feeling that this night was not going to be very fun after all.

* * *

**A/N: **There was so much more of this chapter to write! But I've noticed I've gone over 4,000 words which I set as my limit for each chapter so I guess the next one will be a follow up from this. I'll write it straight away and put them both up at the same time. Thankyou for your kind reviews, THIS IS THE TWISTING POINT YOU'VE ALL BEEN HOPING FOR! Enjoy!

_Don't forget review, good or bad, all feedback is appreciate and really motivates me to continue writing._

_Thanks, Amelia x_


	5. Protector?

_I do not own any of the characters or story line of Harry Potter, and all credit goes to J.K Rowling, the legend herself._

**Please enjoy reading this, any comments or feedback is most appreciated. Enjoy!**

**Chapter Five.**

* * *

The party was in full swing, that was, apart from for Hermione and Ginny. The pair stood in a small corner of the Ravenclaw Common Room with a glass of Pumpkin Juice each. The odd Ravenclaw boy would approach them both, but often they were too drunk to make conversation, and simply tried to make a pass at one of them, before walking away in shame. Hermione and Ginny watched as they would do the same thing to some other girls across the room. They also watched a lot of other people. They watched Malfoy and Blaise, positioned in the center of the room, where Hermione and Ginny had formerly sat, on the gathering of sofas before the fire. The two required an individual sofa each, with the amount of girls on each arm. Hermione noticed Blaise making polite conversation with a few of them, which made the girls more than happy. Meanwhile, Draco whispered in the pretty, brunette, Ravenclaw's ear beside him, which made her giggle hysterically, as she playfully hit Malfoy on the arm.

Ginny stood fully, quite abruptly. Hermione turned to face her, but she was on her tip-toes glancing over the heads of the people surrounding them. Ginny's eyebrows where knit together slightly, and she squinted her eyes as if trying to see something clearer. Hermione frowned, watching the red-head

"What is it, Ginny?" she asked, standing on her tip-toes in attempt to see what she saw.

Ginny stood down, leaning casually against the wall, taking a sip of her pumpkin juice and swilling it round her glass.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head, "Nothing, it doesn't matter."

Hermione glanced at Ginny, cautiously. She took a sip of her pumpkin juice and returned to her former position, leaning against the wall, much like her friend. The two were silent for a while, before Ginny gasped, with more an amused expression than a shocked one playing across her face.

"No!" she cried, her mouth wide as she stared incredulously, "No, no way!"

Hermione tried to see what Ginny was seeing once more.

"What now?!" Hermione cried.

"Penelope Clearwater did not just try to make a move at Blaise Zabini, only to get rejected!"

Hermione gazed over to the gathering in the center of the room. She could see the blonde girl in the crop top looking sullen and pouting at Blaise, who was looking in any other direction than at her. Hermione felt a laugh of satisfaction escape her. Apparently Penelope was not all she thought she was. Hermione heard Ginny mumbled the word '_shocking'_ before she turned to face her best friend who was still gazing over in amusement.

"Ginny," Hermione began, "You haven't seen Dean, have you?"

Ginny turned to look at Hermione, with a serious expression. She wet her lips, searching for something to say, before she glanced over Hermione's shoulder and her face contorted into a frown.

"As a matter of fact," Ginny stated, "I have. Just now."

She took Hermione's shoulders, and turned her 180 degrees. She searched the crowd of people before she saw exactly what Ginny was frowning at. Suddenly, the heavy smell of alcohol in the room became a hundred times heavier. Hermione couldn't breathe enough air to satisfy her brain which seemed to be flooding with questions. _Why? What was he doing? _The room seemed to slow a little, and Hermione was oblivious to everyone else. She stood, rooted to the spot, as she watched Dean Thomas kiss Penelope Clearwater. Hermione gazed slowly over to the sofas at the center of the room. Blaise was alone on the sofa now, Penelope had left him. Any doubts of what Hermione had just saw, left her completely. Her eyes flickered to Malfoy, who was listening intently to the girl who he had whispered to. She was now whispering in his ear, and pointed slowly towards Dean and Penelope. Draco was frowning, listening to what the girl was saying. He glanced up, and spotted Dean. His frown grew even more. Hermione looked from Draco to Dean, who seemed to still be kissing Penelope. It felt like hours, months even. Time was going to slowly, making the impact even worse. Hermione looked back to Draco, who was previously looking absolutely infuriated. Now, his arctic iced eyes were set on Hermione's. He looked at her with an unreadable expression. She swallowed deeply, as she broke the eye contact and looked at Dean, who was looking at Hermione too. Penelope was no where to be seen.

And time regained it's natural speed. The party music was loud as ever, thudding and vibrating, in time with the rapid beat of Hermione's heart. She heard a ringing in her ears, and the adrenaline raced through her body. She felt her feet carrying her, and she couldn't control them as she headed over towards Dean.

Draco sat in his seat, glaring at Hermione as he watched her weave through the crowd towards Dean. Blaise turned from watching the commotion.

"I heard they're potions partners," he stated, referring to Dean and Penelope.

Draco ignored Blaise, acting as though he didn't hear his unnecessary comment. The blood was rushing through his ears, and he could hear his pulse vibrating the inside of his skull. His hands were clenched as he breathed through his nose harshly, like a horse when it's ready to gallop. He watched as Hermione reached Dean, who was laughing slightly, clearly out of his head. Hermione, however, was not. Draco didn't understand why he was so mad. He blamed it on the fact that Dean thought he had the right and the power to do what he did. Draco didn't really want to think of any other reason why he could be so agitated. He knew he'd doubt himself if he did, and he wouldn't like the answer. Hermione was talking through gritted teeth, Dean nodding in return. Then, the pair turned, Hermione almost dragging Dean by his arm, as they climbed up a staircase leading towards the Ravenclaw dorms.

"Draco, mate?" Blaise eyed Draco cautiously. He was rising out of his seat slowly, his hands still clenched. Blaise found this almost amusing. He knew exactly why Draco was mad, and couldn't disguise the hint of a smile that was creeping upon his dark features.

* * *

"Well?!" Hermione cried, flinging her arms out to her sides, when she and Dean were finally alone in the dorms.

Dean winced a little, rubbing his head. He was clearly very, very drunk. Hermione thought it'd be a hard task to try and get a decent answer out of him.

"Well what?" he murmured, laughing a little.

"I'll tell you what!" Hermione cried, striding towards Dean, pressing a finger into his chest. He merely laughed in return. "You foul, selfish, insufferable boy! Who was she?! And above all, what exactly ran through that pea sized, intoxicated brain of yours, when you decided to kiss her?!"

"Hermione," Dean slurred, running a hand lazily through her hair. She swatted him away instantly, disgusted at his mere touch.

"Get off me!" she cried.

"Hermione, there's enough love from Dean to go around," he chuckled, taking Hermione's small hands in his firm own.

She tried to pull away, grunting in disgust, but he pulled her slowly, relentlessly, towards a blue, silk adorned, four poster bed.

"Dean Thomas, get off me, right now!" Hermione yelled, attempting to wrench herself free from his grip.

"Ooh," he purred, his voice deep and husky, vibrating in his ale-coated throat, "Like it rough, do we?"

Dean eyed Hermione from head to toe. She remembered all the times before when he had done this. This was the side Hermione preferred not to see, and doubted she ever would. She shuddered under his gaze.

"I swear, if you don't let go of me right now, I'll hex you so badly you'll-" her voice hitched as Dean threw her on the bed, and she squealed in shock.

"Try me," Dean purred, as he pinned both of her arms beside her head and allowed his full weight to lie on top of her. She closed her eyes tightly as she felt his largely built body crush hers. He was too drunk to even support any of his weight, and so Hermione found it hard to breathe as her ribs were gently pressed under his torso.

"Dean, stop!" Hermione cried, turning her head to the side as he attempted to lean in and kiss her.

Hermione's breath was coming in short, painful rasps as Dean's lips hovered over her neck.

"Stop being so prissy, Granger, forget Penelope, she doesn't bloody matter-"

Hermione attempted to squirm under his grip, but it was useless. She felt tears prick her eyes, but promised herself not to release them.

"Now, let's see what we've got here," Dean slurred, grabbing both of Hermione's wrists in one, large hand. He began fumbling with the buttons on her pink, satin blouse. The first button was undone. Hermione closed her eyes, waiting in agony, hoping he wouldn't continue. The second. The third. Hermione was sure by now he could see the tip of her breasts and her bra. She peaked out of one eye, her breath still defying her. Dean looked up to her, a malicious smile playing across his face. It wasn't the cute, boyish smile she'd seen before. It was his haunting one, the one where his eyes flashed with desire and lust. He paused at her fourth button. Hermione took a breath. She knew he wouldn't just stop now. So she waited for his next move. He grabbed the weak material of her shirt, and wrenched it in his grip. The buttons snapped and it pulled harshly on the back of her neck. She winced a little, as the burning sensation spread around where her collar had lay. Dean had become impatient. She'd only ever seen determination in his eyes like this on the pitch.

"You have no idea how many times I've dreamed of this day," Dean purred. His breath was still strong of alcohol as he chuckled, hovering his face over hers once more.

Hermione turned her head again instantly. Dean began lowering his face towards Hermione's. Any second now he'd kiss her, and she'd be completely under his grip-

The door to the dormitories burst open. Hermione gasped, opening her eyes to see who was there. This would be too embarrassing for anyone to know. Too shameful. She hoped in the small part of her heart that wasn't concealed with fear, that it was Ginny. But it wasn't. And she wasn't sure whether she was thankful of the boy who stood in the doorframe, or not. He slammed the door behind him with force, causing Dean to look up from Hermione's face.

"I'm sorry, but I don't do third parties, Malfoy" Dean laughed, an almost evil laugh that vibrated deep in his throat.

Hermione could only stare. She looked at Malfoy's face, which was lit by the moonlight that shone through the tall windows. Her eyes had adjusted in the dark, and she could see him clearly now. He was livid. The playful sneer that graced his face when he taunted Hermione, was now filled with an army of hatred, disgust and sheer anger. He glared at Dean. His cold, icy-grey eyes were now emotionless. They were hollow, and lonely, and empty of any positive feelings he had. They flashed with anger, as his breathing caused his loosely done up dress-shirt to tighten around his torso. He stared for a good few moments at Dean, before he glanced at Hermione. She looked away instantly, not wanting the one boy she had hated all of her life, to see her so weak and vulnerable. She could see Draco staring out the corner of her eye. He was taking in every inch of her, her expression, the tears begging to burst from the overflowing dam that was her eyes. Finally, he spoke.

"Get the _fuck _off her, Dean," he spat.

His voice was just as cold and haunting. It rebounded off the walls and made an icy slit in the chilling silence.

"Why would I do that, Malfoy. Just so you could have a go?" Dean shook his head as his eyes flickered with absence of a sober brain.

Hermione watched Draco's reaction. He dug his hand into his pocket, and began fumbling for something, pausing slightly when he found it. Hermione knew what he was searching for, but Dean had no logical sense to stop.

"-I mean, that's what you're here for, isn't it? That's why you always turn up when we're together, that's why you follow me around corridors late at night and threaten me to stay away from her. That's why you tell me she'll dirty my blood because she's filth, _shes a Mudblood Dean, don't be so foolish!_ But you wouldn't mind dirtying yourself, would you?"

Draco's eyes flickered slightly to Hermione, who was taking in every word Dean managed to say. Every hurtful thing Draco had warned Dean about to ruin her happiness. He stopped himself from looking into her broken expression.

"-Because you're jealous, aren't you Draco? You're seeing green, _aren't you?_"

Draco withdrew his wand from his pocket with such speed, Hermione hardly saw it's journey from inside the material until it was pointing at Dean's face. Dean rolled from above Hermione, withdrawing his wand too. He stood from the bed, and positioned himself in front of Draco. Draco murmured _Expelliarmus, _disarming Dean before his intoxicated brain had time to react.

"Go," Draco commanded, gesturing his head towards the door.

Dean took a step forwards, before Draco pressed the wand to his throat,

"Not. You."

Hermione took this as her signal to leave. She pulled her blouse around herself tightly, feeling the first moment of dignity she'd felt in what seemed to be hours. She pushed herself off the bed, running towards the door. But she couldn't leave. Hermione found herself pausing before the door, with her hand on the door nob. She turned, momentarily, and gazed at the two boys. One with ridiculous amounts of fear, and the other with nothing more than anger. Dean looked at Hermione with pleading eyes, and as her hand found the twist of the door nob, she disappeared around the other side.

* * *

Hermione hadn't slept that night. The constant images of Dean in her head, Draco's expression, his fury, the words which Dean said, running through her head._ I mean, that's what you're here for, isn't it? W__hy you follow me around corridors late at night and threaten me to stay away from her._ Hermione had witnessed that herself._ Y__ou tell me she'll dirty my blood because she's filth._ Had Draco really said that? Did he really want to ruin Hermione's happiness that much?_ You're seeing green, __aren't you?_ There was no way in Merlin's beard Draco Malfoy was jealous of Dean. Hermione felt a deep knot twist and tighten in her stomach as she made her way to Transfiguration that morning. She knew she had it with the Hufflepuffs. The last thing she wanted right now was to see Dean.

Rumors had been circling all morning. Most of them regarding the fact Hermione had actually attended a party, and many of them about Dean kissing Penelope. She was glad no one knew about what happened in the dorm. That rumor would've had her hiding in the Common Room for the rest of her existing life. She was yet to tell Ginny exactly what had happened, once they had made their way back to the Gryffindor Common Room, Hermione simply went to bed. Sleep greeted her eventually, but only very late. Hermione reflected this in her yawn as she sat at her desk, beside Ron and Harry's.

She sat apprehensively, waiting for Dean to come in. Once she heard his loud, ungraceful footsteps, she turned her head immediately in the opposite direction. He took his seat, two desks to the left and one row in front of Hermione. Dean seemed as reluctant to make eye contact with Hermione as she was with him. But eventually, she became too curious. She glanced over to his desk, and examined his face. He hid behind his hand which he leaned upon, staring straight at the wood of his desktop. Hermione presumed he was far too embarrassed to even look in her direction. The sober Dean, which Hermione had fallen for, was nothing like the drunk Dean she had encountered last night. At last, he shifted from his hand, and quickly glanced to the clock on the wall beside Hermione. As he withdrew his hands from his face, the large ones he'd so forcefully grabbed Hermione with, she noticed the blue and black bruises that spread around and along his nose. The bridge of his nose was slightly purple, and had a small white plaster lay upon it. Hermione frowned. She knew the breakage or bruising must have been severe for Madame Pomfrey not to clean it up immediately.

Instantly, she thought of Draco. If Draco had had his wand, why did he resort to physical violence? Hermione imagined it would make the pain felt more, and that physical violence is carried out longer than simply hexing someone with a spell. Her thoughts were then brought back to Draco's motivation and motive. Hermione knew he and Dean had something between them. Something they didn't talk about or express in public. But she couldn't comprehend or come up with one good reason for Draco to act the way he did. The Draco Malfoy Hermione know would have laughed in her face at her misfortune.

"Oi, Hermione," a voice called beside her.

Hermione found herself feeling foolish as she noticed all this time she had been staring at Dean. She looked away instantly, and to Ron, who was leaning over to her desk, beside her.

"What?" Hermione asked.

She and Ron were on speaking terms now, though she still was angry at Ron for making his pre-judgement. However right he was...

"What happened last night? Why didn't you tell us you were going to a _party_?" he whispered. Harry was now listening too, leaning slightly from his desk in Hermione's direction also.

"How do you know I went to a party?" Hermione questioned. It was a silly question really, considering the rumors floating about. They may aswell have taken the place of the ghosts at Hogwarts.

"Well," Ron began, looking a little lost for what to say, "Lavender sort of told a lot of people that you'd asked her to cover. I mean, me _and _Harry didn't believe it at first, but there's a lot of rumors going around, Hermione. And it sort of confirmed it."

Hermione had specifically told Lavender to cover for her. However, she supposed she hadn't told her not to tell anyone. Lavender would've taken advantage of that opportunity. Hermione sighed heavily, and glanced at the blonde who was whispering alongside some other Hufflepuff girls and eyeing Hermione. The latter rolled her eyes in distaste. Of course she would've told Ron. She practically loathes Hermione's existence due to the fact she thinks Ron has a crush on her.

"It's none of your business," Hermione finally said, turning back to her desk and setting up her parchment and ink.

Just as Hermione had placed her ink in her quill, there was a small knock at the door. Colin Creevey stood on his tip-toes looking about the classroom. He paused on Hermione, not before waving excitedly at Harry who waved a little enthusiastically in return.

"Hermione Granger?" He called, as people began to turn and look at the blushing Gryffindor, "Professor McGonagall would like to speak to you in her office before the lesson starts."

Hermione felt her cheeks burn as everyone's eyes were on her. She was sure, by everyone, that Dean was eyeing her curiously too. Packing away her things immediately, she swung her bag on her shoulder and hurried out of the classrooms as quickly as possible. Once she had reached the first floor and entered Professor McGonagall's office, did she let out the breath that she had nervously been holding.

Professor McGonagall looked up over her round spectacles and Hermione entered. She sat at a large, oak desk that was full of books and parchment. However, it was much tidier than Dumbledore's office, she had to admit. There were two chairs before her, each with tall, high wooden backs. Hermione could see the left one, which was facing McGonagall completely, had a hand resting on it's arm.

"Please, Miss Granger, take a seat," the wizened woman said, gesturing with a shaking hand to the seat on the right.

Hermione walked fowards apprehensively. She wasn't entirely sure why she had been called here. She rounded the corner and sat upon the seat, placing her bag by her side.

"Now I shall make this quick," McGonagall continued,

Hermione saw a flash of white from the corner of her eye. She peered slowly through a gap in her shield of hair to see who exactly was joining her. Her stomach felt as though it had fell through her gut, out her backside, and crashed all the way through the chair, down to the center and core of the world. Well maybe not that much, but the knotting feeling had returned to her stomach as she noticed a familiar blonde Slytherin sat beside her. Hermione had not thought about confronting Malfoy. She knew she was practically in his debt now, and that annoyed her to no end. Draco seemed to be oblivious to her existence. He stared at McGonagall, not once glancing at Hermione. She was glad of this, however, as the ignorance the two endured seemed to save any awkward or complicated moments that Hermione had hoped would not occur.

"I've had reports, that the two of you," the woman continued, "Our two best prefects to this date, _failed _to turn up to their patrol duties last night. And why was this? Hm? Was it because we were ill, Miss Granger?"

Hermione felt her cheeks blush, and heard a small snort from Malfoy as he attempted not to laugh,

"Or did we not have a reason at all, Mr Malfoy?" she said, pointedly.

Malfoy soon lost his grin, as the two sat, staring at the disapproving expression of the woman before them.

"A party," she began, once more, "Is no excuse to abandon any responsibilities that you may have. Do you understand?"

The two nodded in unison.

"Now, as a punishment. You two will take tonight's prefect duties, and patrol as usual, _together._"

Hermione almost choked on her own saliva. There was no way on God's earth that she would spend hours on end patrolling the castle with Draco Malfoy! Alone! She rolled her eyes and sighed instinctively. Draco seemed to have a rather different approach.

"But, Professor, I have other commitments tonight!" he pleaded.

"Your 'commitments' can wait, Mr Malfoy," McGonagall said, pursing her lips, disapprovingly of Draco.

The Slytherin seemed to slump in his chair, huffing loudly. Evidently, he felt as unhappy about the situation as Hermione did.

"I trust you two to turn up to this. Or there will be _serious _consequences. You are dismissed."

Hermione grasped her bag strap and placed it on her shoulder. Draco swung his black satchel over his head and placed his hands in his pockets. He went to leave the office quickly, leaving Hermione pacing after him in return. He opened the door and then paused, staring out into the hallway.

"Ladies first," he said, through gritted teeth.

Hermione was slightly taken aback by the break in the silence. She stepped through the door frame and looked up to his face, for the first time that day.

He was nothing more than a shadow of his former self. Hermione glanced at the deep bags that hung under his eyes, and the hollowness of his cheekbones. He looked as though he hadn't slept or eaten for days on end. He looked how Hermione felt. He stared back at her. His eyes were not cold, and icy, and did not send a chill down Hermione's spine as they usually did. Instead, they were lifeless. Completely. Not like the night before, when they were emotionless, but still glowing with fury. Instead, they were plain, and grey, like a cloudy day pressing on everyone's optimism. She swallowed deeply.

"Thankyou," she said. Not only was she thanking him for his gesture, but she and Draco knew she was thanking him for saving her the other night. He studied her face, his brows knit together in concentration. For once he didn't sneer at Hermione, or glare at her. She doubted he had the energy too either, looking at his drained expression. Instead, he simply nodded, closing the office door behind him, and striding off down the corridor, hands in his pockets and his posture tall.

Hermione stood for a moment, releasing a sigh she wasn't aware she had been holding. She watched as Draco turned the corner at the end of the hallway and was out of sight. Checking her wristwatch, she noticed it was nearly time for dinner. Surprisingly, she wasn't hungry, and had suddenly lost her appetite. Yet she ventured towards the Great Hall, her feet carrying her without instruction. She found this was happening a lot recently. But the Gryffindor was too exhausted and consumed in her own thoughts to care. And so she held tightly onto her bag strap and mulled over her dread for the patrols that night.

* * *

**A/N: **AND SO THE DRAMIONE BEGINS! One more brief appearance from Dean in the next chapter, (when I say brief I mean brief, Hermione's so over that boy now), AND THEN IT'S DRAMIONE GALORE. I'm in such a writing mood I've already wrote two chapters already, dayum girl. Apologies for the wait as I have been on holiday. Regardless, everything's Dramione and nothing hurts.

_Don't forget review, good or bad, all feedback is appreciate and really motivates me to continue writing._

_Thanks, Amelia x_


	6. Does Not Do to Dwell On Dreams

_I do not own any of the characters or story line of Harry Potter, and all credit goes to J.K Rowling, the legend herself._

**Please enjoy reading this, any comments or feedback is most appreciated. Enjoy!**

**Chapter Six.**

* * *

Sometimes, in life, we have to do things we don't_ really_ want to do. For example, Hermione Granger was about to walk into a room full with over 500 students, 99% of which Hermione did not want to be around. That small, 1%, who she was more than happy to engage with, was Ginny. Hermione had only allowed her feet to carry her down to the Great Hall, due to her mission to find the red-head. Once she approached the large archway of the hall, her lack of desire to enter into the hurricane of rumors and stares, and conversations behind hands, which never really disguised the fact people were talking, was confirmed. And all that she had expected to happen, happened. As she stepped one foot into the Great Hall, it was as if she had hit a trigger, or initiated a booby-trap. People began pointing, and whispering, but Hermione chose to ignore their frivolous behavior. Instead, she tightly grasped the strap to her book bag, and advanced towards the right side of the hall, where Ginny sat alone, beside Neville and Seamus who seemed to be deep in conversation. Hermione sighed in relief. She had hoped to confide in Ginny, and didn't want Harry or Ron to be around to mollycoddle over her. Hermione knew a time would come where she would have to explain her sudden lack of interest in Dean. And her absence lastnight. And why she was called to McGonagall's office. And just what happened between Penelope and Dean. But she hoped that maybe, she didn't quite have to explain why Dean had a broken nose. Or anything that contributed to that matter.

That made her feel slightly better, as she approached Ginny who looked up from her half eaten plate with a smile. She'd noticed Hermione walking towards her. As the latter sat down, opposite the table to Ginny, she sighed gently. Hermione noticed Ginny's smile fade. She had not yet explained any of last night's events to Ginny. Eyeing Neville and Seamus, who seemed to be comparing Chocolate Frog cards, _did people their age really still do that?, _she broke into full force, explaining everything to Ginny in a lowered voice.

"... I applied some burn healer to my neck, but it hasn't healed. I was going to go to Madame Pomfrey, the last thing I want is people asking questions, but then this morning I saw Dean, and his nose was bruised and appeared to be broken-"

"-Did Malfoy do it?" Ginny asked, wide eyed at Hermione's story.

Hermione sighed in defeat,

"I don't know," she said, scooping some mash onto her plate, "I'm guessing so. I don't see anyone else with a motive to cause damage to Dean. And Malfoy was the last person to be in contact with him before I left. He's the only one who knows."

Ginny's eyes narrowed slightly, as she listened intently to Hermione's story.

"-And so I didn't go to the Hospital Wing because I thought maybe he'd be visiting there. Besides, straight after I got called to Professor McGonagall's office, after being told I have to do patrols with Malfoy, of all people, turns out he missed his duties too-"

Ginny rolled her eyes in disbelief, allowing Hermione to continue,

"I came straight here to tell you. And I guess that's it really," Hermione said bleakly.

She picked up her fork and prodded at the mash on her plate. She wasn't quite sure why she'd even got herself some. Her appetite was still absent and there was a nauseating, heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Ginny took a sip of her Pumpkin Juice and began picking at her food too.

"I don't know," she began, as Hermione looked up with interest, "What Dean did was ridiculous. Maybe that's why he was so reluctant for you to go. Either he's a complete wreck when he's drunk, and he knows it, or he had his night with Penelope planned beforehand. I'd say you should tell McGonagall, or Dumbledore, about how he, _assaulted,_ you. But then I'd sound like you. And if you haven't done so already, I guess you're not planning on doing so either."

Hermione shook her head to confirm Ginny's theory.

"And then there's Malfoy," Ginny lowered her voice considerably.

Hermione looked up to Ginny again, resting her head on her hand.

"Why did he come striding in there, knowing full well you two had just gone into the dormitories alone. He was _watching _you, Hermione. I saw it. No matter how foul his expression was towards you, he was still watching you. And why was he so angry at Dean? What exactly was his motive to beat Dean's nose into a mess, -if_,_" Ginny added quickly, as Hermione opened her mouth to talk, "-We know it was him. It just doesn't make sense, Hermione."

"Now you know why I've had no sleep," she said, resting her fork down on her plate.

"I guess Malfoy isn't that bad after all," Ginny said, glancing over Hermione's shoulder.

She blinked repeatedly, a small frown knitting in her brows. Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Ginny cleared her throat gently and talked without moving her lips,

"Speaking of Malfoy," she said, glancing up at the brunette in concern.

Hermione felt her heart murmur. She turned, looking over her shoulder slightly as she spotted that familiar platinum hair. Draco was resting his head on his hand lightly. His face looked emotionless, much like his eyes that Hermione had looked into before, and had caught now. He tried his best and attempted to sneer at Hermione, and looked away instantly. She watched the Slytherin for a couple more seconds. He took a green apple from the bowl in the center of his table, and glanced back up to Hermione. She felt her breath seem to fade in and out in small wisps, as she watched the deteriorating boy with interest. Merely two days ago, he was his same, malicious, bullying self that Hermione despised. She watched as he broke the eye contact they shared for a moment, slinging his bag over his shoulder, in a fashion much like earlier that day, and stood from his table. He took a bite from the apple as he began striding out the hall, and then threw it in the bin as he disappeared around the corner of the doors. Apparently Draco didn't have much of an appetite either.

* * *

Draco lay on his bed in his dorm. Sleep had never been a good friend of Draco's. He planned on getting a nap before his patrols, much to his chagrin, with Granger, as he hadn't had much the night before. The dorm was empty. Crabbe and Goyle were most possibly out, searching for a new victim they could beat into a pulp. Blaise was in the library, finishing his work with his partner. His partner, once again, being Granger. It seemed as though her name and her being was following him everywhere. Much to Draco's annoyance, Granger's mere existence had been the reason he couldn't sleep. If it wasn't for her, and her mudblood character, Draco would not have been tossing feverishly in his bed, in attempt to rid the haunting images of the mess she had got herself into.

It was no joy, Draco thought, truthfully, to have the one being he resented, constantly crossing his mind involuntary.

He'd think of Granger from time to time, only to try and devour into her demeanor, and discover a new secret or foolish trait he could bully her for. Infact, it was quite enjoyable for Draco to plan his amusement. To think of ways to get Hermione's attention, to get her to react to his taunting, to sit and watch her become hysterically worked up over one mere comment he could make. Hermione Granger was the most reactive victim of his 'playing', you could say, and Draco enjoyed teasing the 'smartest witch of her age', until she'd rise her chin in a superior attitude, as if she as above him, Draco Malfoy, and walk about the corridors with her ego the size of her bushy hair and bucked teeth. Well, _actually_, Draco had noticed a considerable shrinkage in the mass volume that was the nest of hair upon Hermione Granger's head. And her teeth were merely no larger than his. Little things like this kept Draco on his toes, thinking of new things to taunt her for.

But Draco was not thinking of bullying methods. Nor was he thinking or taunts, or teasing techniques. He would be quite satisfied if Granger never crossed his mind again. But that, of course, was too much to ask.

The Slytherin closed his eyes, attempting to sleep for the third time that day. He shut the emerald, silk curtains around his four poster bed and lay comfortably on his back. Not only did he shut his curtains, but he also attempted to shut out the world that was waiting on the outside. He took a breath, calming himself and his mind. For a second, there was nothing, and Draco felt almost relaxed. But within an instant, it was back. He watched the scene unfold on the back of his eyelids.

Draco had never seen Hermione Granger look fearful. He'd never seen her look genuinely scared, so scared she was unable to come up with a sarcastic comment or witty remark. But he had witnessed it.

_ He glanced over to the mess that was Granger, lay on the bed. Her small body pressed under the reckless tyrant above her. For a second, their eyes connected, but she looked away almost instantly. She didn't want to look at him any more than he wanted to look at her. But Draco found that was all he could do. He stared at Hermione. He noticed how her eyes, that were once filled with passion, or excitement, or anger, or challenge, were now dull, and lifeless. Draco was the reason he had seen those emotions in her eyes. He was able to get her to react however he should like. That was a slight hold the blonde had over Hermione, and he was rather proud of it too. But now, he'd forgotten that life ever existed in the caramel, lava-like orbs. They were wide, and bleak, and slightly hazy with a coat of liquid that Draco could only presume was tears. It was her unbelievably stuck up attitude that had Hermione holding back tears whenever she ought to cry. Draco knew that the Gryffindor pride that radiated from her, was the cause of it. She blinked repeatedly, attempting to keep the tears at bay.  
__ His gaze wandered down to her lips, which were parted slightly as she drew sharp intakes of breath through her mouth. Draco wasn't used to the silence. He was used to the sarcasm and wit, and anger felt retorts that flowed out of her mouth in their presence. But now she was silent, and at a loss for words, and all Hermione could do was breathe. This didn't sit well with Draco, and made his stomach lurch in an unusual fashion. He almost wanted her to wet her lips, as she often did, and begin fumbling for something well thought through and witty to say. But she didn't.  
He didn't want to look any further. He didn't want to see beneath the baby pink blouse that lay thrown open by her sides. He didn't want to see the light, olive skin that was glowing in the moonlight. He didn't want to see the delicate decolletage of her collar bones and slight outline of ribs as she drew in deeps breaths. He didn't want to see the peaks of her breasts from her purple, laced, balconette bra. He didn't want to see the way they perfectly fit the cup size that Draco had all his life, expected to be a lot smaller than what Granger was hiding. He didn't want to see the small section of her toned stomach, which was perfectly flat from what he could see. He didn't want to see any of it. But his mind was at a loss of power, and his eyes roamed free in a moment Draco was sure he would never come across again.  
In that moment, Draco saw Hermione differently. He saw her as a small animal, as she whimpered slightly under the pressure of ignorance and selfishness that lay above her. She wasn't the mudblood that, time after time again, beat Draco in every test. She wasn't the object of amusement, for Draco to prod at with his hurtful words and insults. She was a person, like him. And she was scared. And Draco of all people knew what it was like to be scared. Knew what it was like to be sat in a room with around a dozen people, who had no fear to end his life, then and there. Knew what it was like to sit before your own father and be disapproved upon, whilst your mother sat in the background, too scared to say anything.  
__ And in a selfish part of his mind, Draco was glad that Hermione Granger had finally witnessed fear. The part of his conscience that found it fun to hurt her, returned. And it was amused by her predicament, and her fear, and it fed off her foreboding expression. It saw Hermione in a way that Draco had never hoped of seeing her. How special she looked, with her hair spread wildly on the blue silk bedding. With her small body lay upon it, scared, waiting for something to happen. And he almost wanted to put her out of her misery. He wanted to be back in his dominance, with complete control over her, and her emotions, as he toyed with her strings like a puppeteer. He liked the power he felt, for her to finally submit to him, and to be completely under is authority. Yes, he quite liked the scared Hermione Granger.  
Yet, at the same time, Draco hated seeing the true fear struck across the Gryffindor's face. He hated fear within himself at best. It brought down the best of people, and made them feel worthless and incapable. And he wouldn't wish it upon anyone else.  
Draco couldn't get the vision of her lay like that out of his mind. It was a vision he had never wanted to witness in his entirety, but never wanted to forget, none the less. He wasn't sure whether this was because, in his mind, it was something he could find a taunt within, or whether it was something completely different. And for once, he ventured into the other possibilities of his feelings. The ones he avoided because he knew he wouldn't like the answer. The ones he'd say 'I have my reasons' for to avoid complications. Maybe, and it was a large maybe, he didn't want to forget the vision he saw for one more reason. Because it was exciting. Because it was new. Because it was something Draco had never witnessed in Granger before. Something that none of the other girls had shown him. It was complete innocence. And maybe Draco liked that._

Draco's eyes flew open immediately. He noticed his breathing was rather shallow, and so he took a deep breath in attempt to calm himself. Throwing back the curtains around his bed, he glanced at the wrist watch beside him. He ignored the date that was slowly curving around the silver hands of the clock, and instead looked at the time. It was fifteen minutes before he was obliged to go and meet Granger for his patrolling. He had no intentions of being early, nor on time. He didn't want to look eager, and Draco was anything but. Thankfully, the blonde had acquired some sleep, even if it was for only an hour and a half. But he mentally kicked himself, and beat himself, and hexed himself into oblivion, thinking exactly what he had fallen asleep thinking about. In his dreams, and his mind that was half way between sleep and consciousness, Draco was unable to control his thoughts. If people knew exactly what Draco Malfoy dreamed about, the good, the bad, and the ugly, they'd never think straight again. Draco had witnessed dreams that left him shaking as he woke up in the morning. He'd slept through thoughts that caused him to question his sanity. But never had he been so scared about what he had just pondered over, than his thoughts on Granger. No, that dream did not sit well with the Slytherin _at all. _He promised to himself, for as long as he was sane, which he doubted from time to time whether it would be a long period of his life, he would never think about Granger in that way again. In attempt to rid himself of those haunting thoughts, Draco headed to the bathroom to take a shower. He blamed the craziness on his lack of sleep.

* * *

Hermione checked her watch, impatiently. She was told to meet Malfoy at 7 o'clock, outside the prefect's bathroom on the fifth floor. It was now fifteen minutes past the time they were meant to meet, and Hermione was growing angry. Not one student was caught out of bed in her presence, and there were a distinct lack of friendly ghosts down the narrow corridor she stood in. With a sigh, Hermione paced left and right, in front of the doorway to the bathroom. She straightened out her robes and uniform, and adjusted the prefect's badge that sat near her left shoulder. The Gryffindor glanced at the ground as she walked across the cold, marble floor. She noticed a small scuff on her black, patent shoes, and crouched down to clear it. With a simple lick of her finger, she polished away at the dirt, which left no remainder to say it was ever there. A familiar, arrogant _click _began growing louder as she heard someone making their way towards her. To match the signature rhythm of the superior swagger, Hermione heard a soft chuckle as she rolled her eyes in disgust.

"Unless you're searching for dwarves, Granger," the voice called, with a slight air of amusement, "I suggest you get the hell up off the floor and do your job properly."

Much to Hermione's chagrin, Draco had arrived. She stood slowly, and turned to see the blonde Slytherin make his final steps towards her.

"Nice of you to finally join me, Mr Malfoy," she said, eyeing him as he approached the slit of moonlight that shone on the floor, acting like a barrier between them.

As he stepped into the light, Hermione noticed something different about him. He stood tall, taller than he had done earlier that day, and his hair was fixed in it's side parting as it usually was. She watched as he arrogantly shoved his hands in his pockets, looking down on Hermione. The hollows of his cheeks were less deathly, and now formed in the sculptured dip they had always done. His eyes were no longer hiding behind bags and dark circles. Instead, they gleamed in the moonlight, making them appear like icy blue slates. And they flashed with life and energy. He quirked an eyebrow as he noticed the girl studying him.

"Don't gawp, Granger. Close your mouth too, and stop catching flies, it's not becoming of you," Draco's arrogant smirk returned to his face.

Hermione felt her lips instantly, noticing she was not gawping at all, and her mouth was not open. This received a satisfied snigger from the boy before her. Hermione stepped around him, noticing him linger slightly, before following on behind.

"How funny you are," she said sarcastically, beginning to make her way down the hall, wand out, lighting the way.

"I'm not funny, Granger," he began, before Hermione scoffed with a dignified '_Finally, you've realized,' _

"-I'm fucking hilarious," the Slytherin continued, laughing at Hermione's sudden movements when she heard the slightest noise.

"How aristocrat of you," she called, "Using such language in an open corridor where anyone could hear you."

Both the Gryffindor and the Slytherin were secretly thankful of the return of their usual banter. Hermione had hated the silence which followed her incident with Dean. Any other day, she would've cherished the fact she didn't have to talk to Malfoy, but she knew that neither of them really knew what to do or say, and so the silence continued. She couldn't enjoy the awkwardness lingering in the quiet atmosphere. Draco, however, was merely cringing in Hermione's secret respect for him. He was almost regretting 'saving' her the other night. If he'd of known the change Hermione had suddenly thought had taken place between them, then he would've allowed herself and her Gryffindor courage and knowledge, to get themselves out of the mess they'd got into. Nothing had changed between him and Hermione. She was still and insufferable, pathetic mudblood. And in her eyes, he was still a foul, twitchy little ferret. And they hated each other again.

"Calm your non-existent tits," Draco mocked, as Hermione threw open the door to a deserted classroom, thinking there was someone in there.

The words had merely rolled of Draco's tongue without thought. That was, until, and unwelcome flashback of the 'incident' returned to him. Granger had more than existent breasts. He dismissed the thought instantly, feeling almost sickened that he'd linked the two together. Hermione was silent too. Draco could only imagine what she was thinking, as she closed the door to the classroom slowly, and continued down the hallway. Maybe she hadn't noticed that he'd seen, seeming as she looked away. Draco preferred this idea, and went with it. Maybe he could convince himself that he hadn't seen them either. Running a hand through his hair, Draco began catching up to Hermione, quickening his pace as he stared at the ground. He had a feeling there were going to be a lot more awkward silences like that, that night.

* * *

Hermione and Malfoy had spent almost an hour in somewhat silence. The two made their way down deserted corridors, checking a classroom each. The only time they spoke was after closing a door and commenting '_Clear_'. Draco had paused on the archway that marked a corridor on the sixth floor. He leant against the cool marble, watching Hermione as she prudently checked all the classrooms. Draco wasn't quite sure whether he could tolerate much more of her snobbery. He admired her spirit, however, acting as though she had come out of the fight unscratched, as though she was still the wall Draco could not destroy, even after the events of the other night. She turned, noticing the lack of footsteps following behind her. Glaring at Draco in the semi-darkness, he rose from the wall with a sigh, and continued after her.

The two halted, however, when Hermione stopped abruptly before a corner.

"Granger, if you're that scared of your own shadow-" he began, before the Gryffindor turned and, rather forcefully, clamped her hand over Draco's mouth. He widened his eyes in surprise. How dare she touch him, and silence him too! He looked down, eyeing her hand over his mouth. Much to Hermione's surprise, though, he didn't swat her hand away. Instead, he merely kept quiet, listening to the footsteps Hermione had heard approaching round the corner.

A short, familiar, stocky Hufflepuff stood before them, eyeing the set up of the pair strangely.

"I've been looking for you," Dean said, glancing directly at Hermione.

* * *

**A/N: **Prepare to say farewell to Dean Thomas, ladies and gentlemen! As **Jadepowell **said in her kind review, yes, Dean's a jerk! This chapter, I'm not too sure about, but hopefully you get a slight better understanding. The story unfolds from here!

_Don't forget review, good or bad, all feedback is appreciate and really motivates me to continue writing._

_Thanks, Amelia x_


	7. Sadly, You Can't Hide Truth

_I do not own any of the characters or story line of Harry Potter, and all credit goes to J.K Rowling, the legend herself._

**Please enjoy reading this, any comments or feedback is most appreciated. Enjoy!**

**Chapter Seven.**

* * *

Hermione instantly dropped her hand from Draco's mouth. She wasn't quite sure why it was still lingering there anyway, her only intention was to keep him quiet, which he seemed to be doing despite her efforts. She watched as Dean glanced rather quickly at Draco. She sensed the daggers, that crossed between their glares, skim over her shoulder. As little as Hermione knew Draco, she definitely knew he wouldn't be too happy with Dean's presence. She imagined him snarling and frowning at Dean in disgust. The Gryffindor knew how that felt. She'd been on the receiving end of it many times.

"Did I not do enough to put you in the hospital, Thomas?" Draco spat. Hermione took a breath, looking to her left where the blonde was edging forwards.

"Just be quiet, Malfoy," she snapped, glancing back to Dean who looked rather amused at the orders being given.

This only annoyed Draco more. A small growl rumbled in the back of his throat, as he stood back and watched through narrowed eyes. Hermione was surprised at his obedience, but did not ponder on the thought as Dean began to speak.

"Look, Granger," he began, as Hermione noticed a shift in Draco behind her. He seemed to tense suddenly. She rolled her eyes at Dean. He really wasn't off to a good start,

"-Hermione," he corrected.

"-You never did care enough to get it right, did you?" said the Gryffindor, as she folded her arms angrily.

"I did care!" Dean cried, gesturing with his hands, "That's why I'm here, to prove that."

Hermione scoffed in return, shifting on her feet uncomfortably.

"It's a little late for that, Dean," she said, eyeing the floor with fake interest, "What exactly did you come here for?"

"I wanted to apologize" he said, edging closer to Hermione. She took a step back, almost expecting to fall into Draco. But he had strolled over to a stone wall nearby, leaning on it whilst watching the pair intently.

"Hermione I never meant to hurt you," the Hufflepuff said softly, "I don't know what came over me. I was drunk, and foolish. I didn't want you at that party because I know what I'm like when I'm drunk."

"So you would've done the same without me there anyway?" she said, flinging her arms beside her wildly, "Would you of planned on actually telling me? Or would I have to of found out from one of these stupid rumors that wont seem to die away?"

"That's not what I meant, Hermione," Dean said, reaching for Hermione's arm to comfort her. She flinched at his touch, shaking him off her almost instantly. With a step back, Hermione pursed her lips. Her brows were furrowed and her breathing was slightly rapid.

"_Don't_. Touch me." she said, her eyes alight with the fire burning inside of her.

"Please, Hermione, forgive me, I'm-"

"-I think you've had your say," interrupted a cool voice. Suddenly, Draco was behind Hermione. She jumped a little as his presence.

"Oh, here comes Mr. Night-in-shining-armor," Dean said rather sarcastically.

"Are you really that fucking stupid, to start again?" Draco growled, as Hermione edged away from the pair.

Dean took this as his warning. He dropped his arms to his sides, taking a slow step backwards.

"You've got her now," he said, shrugging his shoulders and gesturing towards Hermione, "Do what you want."

"Fuck off, Dean. Don't be so ridiculous-"

"-Do you know how he tried to ruin it for you?" Dean interrupted, pointing Draco straight in the face and talking wide eyed to Hermione.

She glanced at Draco, noticing him purse his lips and take a deep breath through his nose. He acknowledge her glance, but remained staring at Dean, the boy he now loathed.

"He tried to ruin everything!" Dean almost laughed, "Do you know how he'd try and brainwash me? Tell me you're no good. You're just a _mudblood. _Forced me to think differently of you. Drove me to end things with you. Apparently, with you in my life, I was 'wrecking my own future'. Isn't that right Draco?"

Hermione felt tears prick her burning eyes. She'd stared at the two for so long, she'd almost forgotten how to blink. But that was not what caused her tears. Her heart was racing in her chest, and no matter how deeply she breathed, there was an ever-growing weight, sinking over her ribs, into her heart. Her stomach was twisting in an acrobatic show of knots and falls whenever Dean confessed another line. A lump in her throat was demanding to be felt, feeling as though it would suffocate her any second if she didn't cry.

"It had nothing to do with you!" Hermione whispered,

"-Why do you even care?" she managed to choke out.

Draco's eyes momentarily flickered to Hermione, who was trying with all her might to keep calm.

"Exactly!" Dean cried, edging towards the two, "Why do you care? _Hm_? Come on Draco, spit it out. Be a brave boy for once. Daddy isn't going to come and fix this for you!"

Hermione thought Dean had broken the ice, with a sharp spear that shattered every millimeter of it's surface area. But, to her surprise, Draco simply glared at Dean once again. He and Hermione stared at Draco, Dean with his eyebrows raised in expectancy, and Hermione simply yearning for one simple answer that could possibly knit everything together and make sense.

But it felt like a whole day had passed, and Draco did not say anything. Hermione glanced at Dean, who looked almost smug with the satisfaction, and then back to Draco, who was simply looking to the floor beside him.

Hermione noticed the knit in his eyebrows as they furrowed slightly. His jaw was clenched tightly and the pulse that ran along a small visible vein on his temple, was throbbing violently. His chest was heaving with every sharp breath he inhaled through his nose. But he could look neither of the two in the eye.

And in that moment, Hermione hated Draco Malfoy, with every piece of her body. More than she had done when he'd call her ridiculous names. More than when it progressed to attempted hexes in corridors, or unsuspected attacks in the grounds. More than when it progressed to physicality, when he'd knock books purposely out of her hands, or barge her out the way when entering classrooms. And more than when he'd simply stare at her, with an unreadable expression, causing Hermione to become agitated and want to leave the classroom immediately. She'd been almost thankful of Draco, merely a few hours before hand. She'd began to question his morals, wondering if there was actually one sympathetic bone in his body, which knew the right things to do. But now she knew she was wrong. Even if there was some sort of caring inside of him, it'd never break free, surrounded by the idiocy and selfishness that bounded it to be kept inside.

She'd known he'd said things of the sort to Dean. She'd known he'd been trying to guide him away from her. But he'd never confirmed it, until now. And Hermione had never felt more belittled and worthless than she had then. No matter what, someone had wormed their way in, to break Hermione's happiness. And she began to question whether she really deserved to be happy. Maybe the things Draco had said were right. Maybe Dean _was _better off without her. But as she looked between the smug face of the boy she thought she'd once loved, and the scowl of the boy who was battling with himself, who she'd found a larger, re-ignited hate for, all she wanted to do was disappear. And now she'd couldn't fight back the tears. She just wanted to run away from the insanity that was growing, and pressing on her. And so she did. She ran, back along the corridor, and around the corner. Anywhere her feet could take her, anywhere away from _there_.

* * *

Draco looked up instantly as he saw the figure beside him shift and disappear, out of his view. He heard the quickened footsteps as she ran down the hallway. His heart was racing, and the blood was draining from his head, making him feel dizzy. And he had a ridiculous lurking feeling in his stomach, which didn't sit well with him. As he glanced up to Dean, who was stood, arms folded, watching Hermione with a smug expression as she ran away, he felt almost livid. The Hufflepuff eventually met his stare, and lost his smile.

"Go on, Draco," he said, in a low, chilling voice, "_Run._"

And without warning, he'd somehow managed not to beat Dean into an unrecognizable mess right there, and instead began fleeting down the corridor. Draco wasn't quite sure why he was running. He felt he was running away. Away from the questioning, and the claustrophobia. And the key that was jabbing into his thoughts, trying to unlock the truth. And he'd tried to block it out. But he knew that it was finding it's release, in a different body. Through Dean's voice, and into not only his head, but Hermione's too. And strangely enough, he was running towards something aswell. He could hear her echoed cries, and her gasps for breath as his long legs carried him in the direction of the sobbing girl. It was then, when he knew Hermione was crying, it had all gone too far.

He'd never meant to make her cry. He'd taunted and teased her in the past. Pushing her boundaries. Being careful not to cross them. Because it was all just fun and games. It wasn't serious. And what he'd said to Dean was never meant to come out. He'd subconsciously bullied her. And Draco knew how it felt to be bullied. By his own father, his own flesh and blood. Finally, the inner Malfoy in him that he'd tried to hide and never let it fully come to the surface, was taking over him.

Finally, she was in his sight. He was hot on her heels, following her, as eventually, she approached some large, oak doors with iron detailing over the front. They were doors he'd never seen before. But his feet were still carrying him, and as she desperately swung open the large doors, after carelessly wiping the tears that blurred her vision away, he grasped the handle to the door before it finally shut, and followed her inside.

* * *

The two stopped abruptly. Draco steadied himself, trying not to collide with the girl who was staring at him incredulously. The door slammed shut behind them, leaving the two gasping for breath, the only other noise beside a slight crackling that sounded like a fire burning humbly.

"Why did you follow me?! I wanted to get away from you, Malfoy! Not be followed by you-" she breathed, in between gasping for breath.

But Draco wasn't listening. Instead, he eyed his surroundings precariously.

The room was warm, and lit solemnly by the fire that burned in an impressive oak fireplace on the wall beside them. It was a rather small room, but snug and homely all the same. The floor was a dark oak, that matched the fireplace, and was covered with a large, Persian rug. The walls were a grey stone, adorned with bookcases fitted into large arches in the alcoves. In the center of the room were two, large, inviting red sofas with a more than ample armchair to match. They were sat around a coffee table with the odd book lay on the far corner, in front of the fire. At the back of the room was a small desk, lit by a candle with an open book lay carelessly beside some stacks of parchment. On the far wall were two doors, either side the largest bookcase of them all.

"Oh no," Hermione whispered, as Draco spun on his heel to face the way he had just come, hearing an almighty rumbling sound. The door that was once there, was now disappearing, fading into the cold, grey stone of the wall.

Draco turned back to Hermione, glancing at her for a mere second before eyeing the room once more.

"Where are we, exactly?" he asked, his breathing becoming a little steadier.

Hermione noticed his furrowed brow, much like her own. She hastily wiped her face of any lurking tears and looked away, not wanting him to see her in such a vulnerable state, once again.

"The Room of Requirement," she said gently, glancing around the room in a fashion much like Draco.

There was a bleak silence for a few moments. Hermione sighed, heading towards one of the doors at the back of the room.

"The Room of what- Granger, wait, what?" Draco called, as he watched the Gryffindor ignore him and continue across the space that separated them.

She stopped, briefly, before the door.

"The Room of Requirement, Malfoy," she stated, as if obvious, "I read about it in a book,"

Malfoy scoffed and murmured something along the lines of '_I should've known__'._

"-It's a room that only appears when a witch or wizard comes across it's location in desperate need or desire to be in a certain place. It's different to everyone who enters it, and the room takes form of the place they want to be most..."

Her sentence drifted off to a finish, as she inspected the room once more.

"Please do enlighten me, with your freakish amount of knowledge, as to _where_, exactly, we are then?" Draco mocked, running a hand through his tousled hair.

"Well," Hermione began, "If I'm right, I think we're in a smaller version of the Gryffindor Common Room."

She received a large sigh from Draco, who's admiring expression concerning the room, had now contorted into one of disgust. Hermione ignored it, regardless.

"And if I'm not mistaken," she began, finally approaching the doors, "This should be the dorms."

She took the handle in her hand and twisted it with a smile. But that smile had soon faded, along with her slight feeling of hope that had briefly returned. The handle was refusing to move. She turned it once more, and then tried at third time with two hands. _Locked. _Feeling her wand beneath her robes, she slid it out gently, pointing to the handle with precision.

"_Alohomora,_" she said clearly, and tried the handle once more.

It was useless. As a frown returned the her face, she made her way across the room, to the second door beside her. Draco leant on the cold stone of the wall from the other side of the room. He watched as the witch before him tried the second door, but had no luck once more.

"Problem, Granger?" he called, slightly amused by her bothered expression as she paced in front of the door in thought.

"They're locked," she replied.

Draco rolled his eyes,

"Yes I know that," he said, a slight feeling of annoyance creeping into his voice, "I can see, I'm not blind. Neither am I an imbecile."

Hermione halted, turning to him. With a exasperated sigh, she ventured over to the sofas in the middle of the room and collapsed into one, resting her head on the arm rest.

"By all means try it yourself then, Mr. Genius," she said, gesturing with her hands to the doors behind her.

Draco did as she said. He strode over to the door with confidence, and carried out the test as Hermione had done. He'd just about announced his last '_Alohomora'_, before Hermione called from behind him.

"It's not going to work," she said, with a song-like tone to her voice.

"No shit, Granger," he said, sliding his wand back into his trouser pocket and leaning against the bookcase beside him. He let his head fall to rest against the dark wood, and winced in pain as he hit it with distinct more impact than he'd expected.

"Why are they locked?" Hermione questioned, talking rather more to herself than the only other person who occupied the room with her.

"I think the main question here, is how the_ fuck_ do we get out?" Draco replied, rubbing his head gently.

The blonde watched as Hermione emerged from the sofa infront of him. She approached the wall where they had entered, and paused before it. Firstly, she delicately traced her fingers over the rough surface. Draco rolled his eyes in defeat, and slouched against the wall, sliding down it's cool surface before sitting on the floor. Hermione then knocked a couple times and pursed her lips in concentration. She withdrew her wand finally, and tapped that against the wall, thrice. Draco was quickly becoming impatient. He had been in the room not even ten minutes with the Gryffindor, and already he could feel the air closing in around him. Hermione began casting spells of which Draco did not care to attempt to recognize. Eventually, she sighed and turned to lean against the wall. He eyed her with caution as she stared at the ceiling. The very little confidence Draco unwillingly had in Hermione was now gone, and he felt that sinking feeling, as it began to settle in his stomach.

"I don't think we can," she said finally, breaking the more than uncomfortable silence.

"What do you mean, you don't think we can?" he said, beginning to rub his forehead as he felt a headache approach, "You thought of the room, can't you just think of a door and make it appear?"

Hermione almost laughed at his lack of knowledge. Clearly Draco had never read _Hogwarts: A History._

"The room has a mind of it's own, Malfoy," she sighed, "And I don't think it's planning on letting us out. Atleast, not any time soon_._"

* * *

**A/N: **Hello! So this chapter is a little shorter than the rest, simply because it gives you the information you need for the next half of the story, and is more of a fill in chapter, than one with exciting events, (unless you class this as exciting, I don't know). Anyway, Draco and Hermione in a confined space, forced to spend time together? Do I smell cliché Dramione? **No I don't.** Do not worry, this is not as cliché as you think it is, you'll soon see. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and the idea.

_Don't forget review, good or bad, all feedback is appreciate and really motivates me to continue writing._

_Thanks, Amelia x_


	8. Under My Grip

_I do not own any of the characters or story line of Harry Potter, and all credit goes to J.K Rowling, the legend herself._

**Please enjoy reading this, any comments or feedback is most appreciated. Enjoy!**

**Chapter Seven.**

* * *

_Trapped. _That was the constant word that mocked and laughed and taunted Draco repeatedly in his mind. _Trapped with Granger, too! _Draco felt that his fortune had taken a turn for the worst, and that it couldn't possibly get any better. He recalled the last thing Hermione had said, before the two sat at opposite sides of the coffee table, ignoring eachother's presence.

_"The room has a mind of it's own, Malfoy. And I don't think it's planning on letting us out. Atleast, not any time soon."_

Granger was an absolute bookworm. There was no doubt about that. And Draco had learnt the hard way, that was very little chance of her ever being wrong. Yet, as he sat with his legs hanging from one side of the armchair, and his head dangling from the other, he hoped to god that, for once in the whole of Hermione Granger's irksome existence, she was wrong. With a great sigh, Draco rolled his head to the left, and glared at the girl he was unwillingly forced to spend a period of time, of which he did not know, with.

Hermione sat quietly in the corner of the plush, red sofas. She curled up into a ball, and rested the book she had found on the table, on the arm of the sofa. Leaning on her hand, she began to read the book, which she recognized to be slightly familiar with. The warmth of the fire acted like a guarding blanket, wrapping its heat around her and comforting at it's will. The room smelt vaguely like a mixture of old parchment, and sandal wood, which Hermione presumed was burning in the fireplace. Overall, it was everything she'd ever experienced in the Gryffindor Common room, and it felt almost like home. There was just one thing out of place. And it's constant sighs every regulated five minutes was disturbing Hermione from her happiness.

"Sighing isn't going to help any of this, Malfoy," she said, glancing up at the boy who was lounged lazily over the armchair before her, and seemed to be already glaring at her.

"Well I don't see you trying to think of a solution, atleast I'm _thinking,_" he said, shooting Hermione his best disapproving look.

"That's because there _isn't _a solution!" Hermione cried, turning the page of her book with a little more force than intended.

Draco released another sigh, causing Hermione to grit her teeth. He swung his tall legs off the chair, and forced himself up. Taking a step forwards into the small space beside the coffee table, that acted like a barrier between the two, he stared at the ceiling, and folded his arms. Hermione eyed him curiously as he stood there, eyes closed, head tilted back. The Slytherin stood like that briefly for a couple of moments, before he was interrupted.

"What on earth are you doing-"

"Shh!," Draco said, dismissing Hermione's comment as he put up his hand, which he later folded back into his arms.

Hermione furrowed her brow at the rudeness and peculiarity of the boy before her. There was a strange sort of silence settling around the two, until Draco finally spoke.

"Hello, Room?" he said, perfectly pronounced and audible. His addressing to the room echoed around the walls, and Hermione almost laughed at his attempt to converse with it.

"-Can you hear me?" he continued, recieving a scoff from Hermione.

"You can't talk to it, Malfoy, it's not-"

"_Shh!_" Draco hissed once again, a little more angrily than the last time. He opened his eyes and continued to stare at the ceiling, blinking in concentration.

"Please, Room, show us the doorway to lead us out of this mess," he continued, lingering his stare at the ceiling momentarily, before looking to the large expanse of wall space where the door had once been.

Hermione glanced briefly at it too, although she knew something as simple as that, something _Malfoy _had come up with, would not be the answer to their prayers.

"It can't hear you!" she laughed, found herself quite amused at Draco's pathetic attempt.

"Says who? Hm?" he replied, placing his hands out either side of him, "You said it had a mind of it's own. Who says it doesn't have ears too? And _eyes_?"

This time, Hermione couldn't contain her laughter. She closed her book gently, attempting to stiffle the guffaws she was witnessing.

Draco sneered at the Gryffindor before him. How dare she laugh at him? It was a reasonable enough attempt!

"What the fuck are you laughing at, Granger?" he spat, watching the girl settle herself, "Atleast I'm _trying_! Your lack of input almost makes me think you _want _to be here!"

Hermione felt her laughter subside, as she frowned at Malfoys comment.

"I'm sorry, _what_?" she asked in disblief.

"I mean," Draco began, a small smirk gracing his aristocrat features, "Who _wouldn't _want to be in a confined space with me? Count yourself lucky, Granger."

"I wouldn't have chosen to be in this room with you if it was a decision between _you,_" Hermione had a look of sheer disgust, "And a screaming banshee!"

Draco felt his fists clench beside him. He'd almost forgotten how much of an annoyance Hermione Granger was. Suddenly, having to spend time with her superior attitude and constant remarks, was seeming even more bleak than before.

"If it were not for you, and you stupid little mistake, we wouldn't be stuck here," Draco sneered, watching Hermione as her expression changed.

"And what exactly do you mean by that?" she asked, pursing her lips and furrowing her brow.

That was the expression he was used to. This was the taunting comfort zone Draco felt comfortable being in. He smirked at her rising anger. She was so easy to taunt, and to get a reaction out of. These petty little characteristics were what had Draco teasing the Gryffindor for years. It was rather amusing.

"If you hadn't_ fallen inlove_ with the insufferable idiot that is Dean Thomas, none of this would've happened."

His simple expression and tone to his voice ignited the fire within Hermione. She threw her book to sofa beside her and stood instantly, advancing on Draco. He merely watched, arms folded once more, as she glared at him with little effect.

"You!" she spat, prodding at his chest rather forcefully, "You foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach! How_ dare_ you!"

The truth was, both Hermione and Draco had forgotten about the incident with Dean, and were too caught up in their own misfortune to even ponder over the thought. Hermione had felt it's return with large impact. As if it had hit her like she was stood infront of the Hogwarts Express. Her heart was racing and her thoughts were unable to settle as she felt a familiar loathing return concerning the boy stood smugly before her.

"_You_ are the reason we're here! _You_ drove him to do what he did! _You _influenced him with your own stupid, pureblood morals-" she emphasized every you with another prod to Draco's hard chest, "And if it wasn't for _you _and your stupid following, the room probably wouldn't have vanished the door, and I would've been back in the _real _Gryffindor common room, without _you, _without a thought about your unwanted whereabouts and arrogance!"

Draco's smile faltered as she dropped her hand from his chest, and tucked a stray piece of untamed hair behind her ear. He felt that all too familiar feeling that he often felt around Granger, return to his chest. His heart raced at her cheek, and her began to sneer down into her scowling face.

"As if it isn't bad enough, being trapped in here," Draco snarled, his voice noticeably lower and more heartfelt, "But no, I'm trapped with a stupid _mudblood_ like you."

Hermione felt her heart murmur. She clenched her jaw and stared into the glistening, icy-cold grey eyes that bored into hers. They seemed far more cold than usual, and Hermione felt this as a shiver ran down her spine.

"You are so callow and pathetic," she whispered, though no less heartfelt, as the blonde Slytherin towered over her, closing the small space that separated them, "-I don't want to be here any more than you do. Infact, probably a million times less than you."

"You have no idea how easy it is for me to hex you so badly I don't even have to hear another murmur from you," this recieved a scoff from Hermione, as though she'd prefer to be half unconcious than deal with his presence, "-If my father heard about this,-"

"-If you're father heard about this he'd probably laugh at how concieted you're being!" Hermione laughed, glaring at Draco in a '_You're ridiculous' _fashion, "Though maybe not. He's just as pathetic and frivolous as you are-,"

She could see the glint in Draco's eye, daring her to go one step further. She'd hit a nerve, that she knew already existed, but was careful not to provoke as it usually ended badly. Now however, Hermione didn't care. She was at her wits end with the boy, and he deserved some sort of vengeance for ruining her one chance of happiness.

"-And you're just,"

She prodded him hard in the chest once again,

"-Like,"

Another poke,

"-Him."

And she went to prod him once more. But the vein on his temple was now throbbing, and his sneer was contorting and becoming one of something out of a nightmare. And as Hermione went for the last blow, his hand was suddenly snatched around her wrist, restraining her from making impact with his chest, catching her off guard.

Hermione felt his grasp around her small limb. She gasped in a mixture of shock, and pain, due to his tight grip. Her breath caught harshly in her chest, causing a slight choking noise to form in her throat. Draco was in a trance Hermione had never seen him in. His breath was coming in rapid rises and falls, through his nose, alongside his clenched jaw. His narrowed eyes glanced from her shocked face to his hand on her wrist. His grip was relentless, and refusing to weaken. Hermione closed her eyes at the pain. She'd faced pain before, her parents were dentists for crying out loud, and this was nothing. But it was the fact her sworn enemy was physically touching her. Skin on skin. It wasn't a spell or something cast by a wand. It was something new, and it scared her. He was hurting her.

"Malfoy" she whispered, staring at Draco who's expression was unreadable, "Let go."

Draco felt his heart catch in his throat. Hermione wore an expression similar to the night he'd discovered her squirming under Dean's body. She was scared. Truly.

"You're hurting me," she said, swallowing deeply as she noticed her voice waver slightly. She glanced at Draco's grip on her wrist.

"Please," she added finally, blinking repeatedly in attempt to settle the pricks in her eyes.

And suddenly Draco understood. He let go instantly, and took a step back from Hermione who was nursing her wrist tenderly, still staring at Draco.

His mind was a blur. A true fog he couldn't see through.

_Draco sat on the floor in Malfoy Manor. He was merely six, maybe even five, he couldn't quite remember. He could remember, however, how happy he was to be cleaning his new broom he'd got for his birthday, with his kit he'd also got of his neighbors the Zabinis. Narcissa sat in a large, leather armchair, with gold, ornate detailing around the circular back and down the curving arm rests. He smiled at her with a wide, toothy grin, as she sat and watched. She smiled back, but it faltered a little as she heard a slam from downstairs. Draco had heard it too. It was the front door, and Draco knew his father was home. Though, he wasn't quite sure where exactly he'd been. A mixture of excitement and dread swept over him, as he heard the loud _clunk _of his father's shoes, making their way up the dark, oak staircase. Finally, he opened the door to the playroom in which Draco sat._

_"Draco," he said, wearing a smile that never really eased the small boy._

_"Hello Daddy," Draco smiled, "Look at my broom. Doesn't it look better?"_

_Lucius strided over to see what work Draco had done. He nodded his head, showing now support for the boy, but Draco knew that he had acknowledged his hard work._

_"Very good," he said, with a tone that showed no reflection of what he had just said._

_Draco looked back to his mother, and smiled. She smoothed down her black, satin dress and fixed a stray piece of hair, ignoring Draco. His smile faded, as he father turned to see who he was looking at._

_"Narcissa," he said, with a growing smile, "My beautiful wife-"_

_"-May I have a word, please?" she interrupted, standing from her chair. When Lucius nodded in return, she took a breath and continued, "Outside."_

_Draco looked up at his disfunctional parents. Lucius glanced at his son briefly, before striding out the room, followed by Narcissa, who gave Draco a sympathetic smile, and followed him outside. Draco had noticed his parents growing apart. He wasn't sure whether it was because they were finding it hard to hide it, or Draco had grown up and it had become more obvious. Maybe it had been there all along, he'd just never understood. However, as he heard the muffled voices of the two talking in the hallway, he made his way over to the door, and watched intently through the small gap between the hinge and wood,_

_"-Where on earth have you been?" his mother said, in a hushed voice, that was still filled with coldness._

_"That doesn't concern you, Narcissa," his father replied. Narcissa folded her arms and shook her head, looking away from her husbands stare._

_"You've been with _her _again, haven't you?" she spat._

_"Who is 'her', my dear?" Lucius asked, apparently oblivious to her claims._

_"You know who!" she replied, scowling at him, "Who was it this time? Hm? That woman in The Three Broomsticks? Or Lucinda Zabini? Which one was it this time, which one so much better than me?"_

_"Would I lie to you, my dearest Narcissa?" Draco's father replied._

_Narcissa scoffed,_

_"You can't fool me," she said, eyeing the floor._

_"I can, and I have done many times before."_

_Suddenly, her gaze was lifted from the ground, and instead she stared at her husband with complete disgust. Draco watched on as she raised her hand, slowly, and swung it to his face. But he caught it in time, securing his firm grasp around his wife's wrist. She flinched in pain, closing her eyes, and tried to stifle the small cry that emitted from her pursed lips. Draco felt his fists clench as he craned his neck to see properly._

_"Lucius, let go, you're hurting me," Narcissa said, her voice shaking slightly, much like her hand._

_"What do you say?" Lucius mocked, placing his hand on the wall beside her._

_Draco stared, as his mother swallowed deeply._

_"Please," she whispered, taking a deep breath in attempt to calm herself._

_"Much better," his father snarled, as he took her restrained hand in his, and kissed it gently. He glanced at her briefly, before stalking off down the hallway. Draco opened the door slightly, cringing as it creaked louder than he'd hoped. He noticed his mother turn instantly to see her small son, appearing slowly from behind the door. His expression was unreadable, as he approached the woman in the hallway who was nursing her wrist tenderly. He noticed the red burns from the grip of his hand on her pale, delicate wrist, and suddenly his hands were clenched again. He despised his father._

Draco took a deep breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Suddenly, the flashback had gone, and he was crashing back to Earth. To Hogwarts. To the Room of Requirement. To the place where he stood rooted to the spot, staring at the girl before him. He watched as she traced her fingers lightly over the red marks of where his fingers had been. The marks he'd inflicted on her. She stared back at him, regardlessly. Her mouth was slightly parted as she took in light, shaky breaths, and her brows knit together in confusion. Draco felt his stomach clench. He felt nauseous. Sick. Sick at his actions, and aggressiveness.

Hermione was _right._

He'd become so much like his father recently. Hating to see people happy. Wanting to break their happiness. Bullying people. Degrading people. Belittling people. Hurting people. Physcially and mentally. Draco looked at his hand which was still slightly clenched, and then dared to glance at Hermione. She was rooted to the spot, much like him, pressing gently on the bruises forming around her wrist. Eventually, she looked up and met Draco's stare. He'd closed his eyes briefly, almost like he was battling with himself. Hermione felt almost guilty. She'd pushed it too far.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, hoping her voice would be calm, but instead it caught in the back of her throat.

Draco opened his eyes immediately. He almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. There was no need for her to apologise, not one reasonable excuse for her to be so mature and kind. He shook his head in response, but she continued,

"I had no right to talk about your family, I deserved this-" she continued, gesturing to her wrist.

A selfish part of Draco's mind was nagging him. _Of course she deserved it. She talked about your Father like she knew the man. She compared you to him. She doesn't know _anything_._

"-Granger," he interrupted, finally showing some sign of life, "Stop, just stop... _Please._"

And that was the first time in Hermione Granger's life she'd ever heard Draco say please. And that was the first time in Draco's life he was able to swipe away the inner Malfoy in himself, and ignore the voice in the back of his mind. It was a day the two of them would not forget.

* * *

The door had still not shown. It had been an hour since Draco and Hermione's incident. Draco had spent most of the time pacing around the room, with his hand on his foreheard that would often wipe down his face and settle under his chin. Hermione sat in her former position, in the corner of the sofa, reading the book she had done before. Every once and again, she would glance up at Draco. It seemed as though the battle with himself that she'd noticed before, was growing into more of a war. The two had no idea what time it was. They had started prefecting at just gone seven, and Draco imagined it had been a good few hours since then. Hermione glanced over to the left wall, where, like the Gryffindor Common Room, she expected there would be a window. But there was a distinct lack of glass, and instead, a bookcase covered the space. Instead, she looked at her watch. It seemed to have stopped. Hermione twisted one of the cogs on the side, but still it did not move, nor tick. She sighed, and scoped the room. It was playing some sort of game with them, and Hermione knew it. How she wished there would just be _atleast_ a window, to show some sort of life and light outside of the confined, four walls she was chained in. With a sigh, she rested her head on her arm, which was lay on the armrest of the sofa, and allowed her eyes to gently close. They stinged slightly, due to the time and the tears, but she ignored it, feeling some sort of bliss in the world she could escape to behind her eyelids.

Draco did not want to sleep. His mind was overactive. He could only imagine what kind of dream he would submit to that night. But his legs were beginning to give in from the constant pacing, and his headache was rebounding on the inside of his skull. With a sigh, he turned and made his way to the large armchair by the fire. Once he sat upon it, Draco noticed the absence of the _swoosh _that signaled Hermione turning a page of her book. He broke his gaze from the flames that were still burning, and instead looked to the Gryffindor before him. Her breathing was coming in slow, steady rises and falls. Draco knew she was asleep.

Loosening his tie, and undoing the top few buttons of his shirt, Draco relaxed back into the seat, allowing his head to rest on it's tall back. Through half mast lids, Draco glanced down at Hermione. The feeling of guilt never did sit well with Draco. Guilt meant only one thing. You did something, you didn't do it right, and it hurt somebody or something in the end. Draco did not like to disappoint, and this time, he had disappointed no-one but himself. The reminder of his actions haunted him, as he noticed Hermione fidget, and pull the sleeve of her school jumper down, over her wrist. He closed his eyes briefly. They stung ever so slightly. Draco blamed it on lack of sleep. He could only imagine what time it was. Opening his eyes only slightly, once more, he glanced around the room. It was so plain, boring, basic. Four walls. No windows. No clock. No beds. No _shower. _Not even a toilet he was aware of. And then who he was sharing it with. Granger.

His eyes snapped back to the small huddle on the sofa. Draco, for the first time in his life, began to inspect Hermione. He started at her face. Her brows were still slightly knit, showing that she was troubled. Draco felt his stomach knot. He progressed, never the less. Her eyes were shut, but Draco noticed how abnormally long her eyelashes were. He continued to her nose, which was slightly upturned. Draco figured this was why she tended to be so snobby. Her mouth was parted slightly, showing two, white, perfectly straight teeth. It had come to Draco's attention that they had shrunk slightly over the past year, and were a lot more regulated than the buck-teeth he used to taunt her for. Her lips were slightly swollen, and red, from crying. This was reflected, to, on her skin. Hermione's skin was nice, as far as skin goes, and it was a medium olive shade. She had a distinct lack of blemishes, that Draco found rather annoying. It was something he couldn't bully her for. Who bullys someone for having flawless skin? But there were slight streaks where her tears had dried and her skin looked tight. Her hair was a lot more tamed, Draco observed, as a small wavy strand fell in her face. It was no longer the large, bushy nest that it had once been. Instead, it fell in loose waves, to just after her shoulders. That was quickly becoming something Draco could also not taunt her for.

He didn't care to venture any further down her physique. He didn't need flashbacks of the 'incident', especially not tonight. Draco was surprised he could even think mildly straight. But the guilt was crawling at his insides. That was the thing about guilt. No matter how much you tried to surpress it, it was an emotion that demanded to be felt.

And in the spur of the moment, remembering Hermione's un-needed apology, Draco lazily slid his wand out of his pocket, summoning a piece of parchment and a quill from the desk at the back of the room. He grunted slightly, as he strained forwards and ripped a small square of parchment from the sheet. Taking the quill in his hand, he began to write in a careless penmanship. It didn't take long, and once he had finished, Draco took his wand once again and levitated the paper. With a swift flick, he sent it in Hermione's direction, as it settled on the open page in her book, which noticeably, was falling off the armrest of the sofa. He gracefully swished his wand once more, as the book closed over neatly, and floated down, towards the table. Next, he sent the parchment and ink back to where it had came from, and, in a satisfied manner, slid his wand back into his pocket.

It was unsuspected, that night, when sleep greeted Draco like an old friend. Earlier than he'd expected, too. And surprisingly, he did not have troublesome dreams. Infact, they were rather pleasant. And Draco was thankful of that.

* * *

**A/N: **Hello! Ah, this chapter was one that took a lot of attention. I hope I captured the feelings and struggles in the right way. I just wanted to get it over with realy, (I have so many snippets I can't wait to insert for future chapters). Anyway, not much to say here!

_Don't forget review, good or bad, all feedback is appreciate and really motivates me to continue writing._

_Thanks, Amelia x_


	9. Sorry, Granger

_I do not own any of the characters or story line of Harry Potter, and all credit goes to J.K Rowling, the legend herself._

**Please enjoy reading this, any comments or feedback is most appreciated. Enjoy!**

**Chapter Nine.**

* * *

Hermione awoke the next morning, her eyes slightly squinted. She forced open her eyelids, but could not see for the humble, glowing light that blinded her. Raising her hand to block the light, Hermione shifted slightly from the position she had fallen asleep in and not moved from. Her neck ached, feeling stiff and tight from sleeping in such an awkward way. She stretched her arms out infront of her, and then retracted them instantly, remembering she had left her book close to her, balancing on the armrest. To her surprise, Hermione found the book was not in it's former place, like she had been, and instead, lay closed on the table infront of her. Still squinting, alongside a furrowed brow, the Gryffindor looked around the room, her eyes adjusting to the light, looking for it's source. And then she found it. Along the back wall, where there had once been a bookcase, there was now three, tall, arched panes of glass, set back into majestic stone fixtures. It looked exactly like the grand window in the Gryffindor Common room. Infact, it was almost identical, a replica. Hermione frowned. She was certain that it had not been there the day before. Stretching her limbs, Hermione stood, and made her way over to the window. She smiled, noticing the sunrise to signal a new dawn, and looked out over the grounds of Hogwarts. It was a perspective Hermione had never seen the land from. It was almost as though she was in a small room at the forest's edge, surrounded by trees with an outlook onto the Herbology huts and Hagrid's cabin. It was almost peaceful.

Hermione's peace, however, was interrupted, when she heard a muffled grunt from behind her. She turned, breaking from the first moment of bliss she felt she had had in years, and noticed the blonde Slytherin, lay carelessly on the armchair near the fire, snoring lightly. His legs were propped upon the table, ankles crossed, and his head was lolled back onto the chair's peak in a heedless fashion. Hermione eyed his disheveled uniform; an emerald and silver, striped tie, hung loosely around his neck and his shirt partly undone, showing a small expanse of muscular, toned chest. Draco was tall, and rather lanky, and so his body weight distributed evenly over his frame. He was not a machine, built like one of the wrestlers Hermione had seen on a muggle program, and was considerably smaller than Dean, and a few other of the Quidditch players she knew, but he was still remarkably strong. Hermione eyed his muscular arms, exposed by his rolled up sleeves. His frame did not bulge against the thin of his shirt, but the white cotton did fit his body rather snugly, as did his tailored, black slacks. She sighed heavily, remembering she was not alone in this room. Draco's snoring faded into steady breaths. Hermione glanced up to his face. In his sleep, with his aristocrat features relaxed, and no trace of a sneer or scowl, the blonde looked rather peaceful. _Shame, _the Gryffindor thought, whilst inspecting his slightly ruffled blonde hair, and flawless pale skin. As angelic as he looked, Hermione knew the Demon inside of Draco. Suddenly, she remembered why exactly she was confined in here.

Though Hermione's wish for a window was, for some reason, granted, her undying need to escape the four walls of the Room of Requirement was not. Breaking away from her newly gifted window, Hermione made her way towards the wall in which an under appreciated door had once stood. She traced her fingers over the delicate stone, closing her eyes and wishing with all she could focus that it would reappear. When that didn't work, Hermione tried pressing gently on each stone. Maybe one was a trigger? Maybe if she pushed the right one, the door would appear once more. The Gryffindor was lost in her thoughts and theories. She'd even considered a special code word that she had come across but not understood. It was no use.

"It's not going to appear, Granger," Hermione heard a low, silky voice call from behind her.

She turned, withdrawing a large breath, and eyed Draco. He rubbed his eyes gently, and smoothed back his platinum locks into their regimented style.

"How courteous of you to notice, Malfoy," the Gryffindor replied, folding her arms with judgement.

"Maybe you should consider re-reading that book you learnt about this room in," he said, squinting in a fashion much like Hermione had done, and eyed the window skeptically, "This place seems to be full of surprises."

"I've read it a thousand times," Hermione continued, ignoring the boy's confusion, though Hermione was just as confused.

"Another time wouldn't hurt then, huh?"

Draco chuckled, and stood. He stretched his arms, high above his head, and stood on his tip toes. Hermione noticed his muscles contract under the fine cotton of his shirt. She looked away instantly, not wanting to see the factors that made Draco presume he was some sort of Greek Adonis. Instead, Hermione made her way towards the sofa opposite from him, and took a seat. She reached out for the book on the table, and brought it back to her arms as Draco sauntered over to the window. Hermione watched him through narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw. She was growing tired of his smug attitude already. Opening the crisp, yellowed cover of her book, Hermione began skimming through the pages. She had forgotten to place some sort of reminder as to where she was up to, and instead, had fallen asleep. She turned the pages rapidly, until she reached one near the middle seam, and noticed something small fall out of it's hold. Taking, what appeared to be a small square of parchment, in her hands, she turned the paper over delicately, and read the two words wrote neatly on the other side.

_Sorry, Granger._

Hermione's eyes instantly flickered to the tall boy stood beside the window. His hands were clasped behind his back in a polite manner, and the orange-hue glow of the early sun lit up his face. Draco's brow was slightly furrowed, but the rest of his face was rather relaxed. His eyes skimmed slowly, in large motions as he took in the view from the window. Hermione felt her stomach perform a light sort of flutter, as an uncontrollable smile made its way across her face. She dismissed it instantly, looking at the bold bruises on her wrists. They were more visible than yesterday, but Hermione supposed that was because they were at their peak. They would be faded by tomorrow, as would the memory of the incident that had taken place between them. They would leave no visible scars, but Hermione was certain she would not forget the vacant look in Draco's eye. And he was sure he would possibly never be rid of memories of the fearful expression that he had caused Hermione to sport. Hermione had never heard Draco say sorry in his entire life, to herself or anybody else. And although he hadn't specifically _said _it, Hermione understood.

"A window," Draco broke the silence, with a slight scoff, "What an insignificant, stupid thing to be given."

Suddenly, Hermione had forgotten any kind words she had thought or said concerning Draco Malfoy. He turned to face her. Hermione noticed he'd fixed his tie and done the buttons up of his shirt. His sleeves were still rolled, mind, but Hermione knew that Draco was all too prudent to wear clothes that showed creases, and were not neatly pressed or ironed. He looked like his usual self. A tall, unfortunately well dressed, aristocrat man who found release in showing his inner child by bullying his peers.

"I concur," Hermione said through gritted teeth, eyeing the Slytherin as he wandered over to the first door that had remained untouched.

"Of course you do," he murmured, hands still behind his back, "I doubt there is a day on this Earth we will ever agree on anything. And i'd like to keep it that way."

"Well don't you want to hear my reasons?"

"No, not particularly," Draco replied, squatting before the door to examine the handle, "But being the goody-two-shoes-Granger that you are, I suppose you will tell me."

"I don't suppose you've noticed that no time is present in this room?" Hermione began, "No clocks, nor my watch work. There is no indicator of time. Light, however, is a constant indicator of time. The position of the sun in the sky gives us a relative idea of what time in the day it may be. Therefore I think a window very valuable. That's also why I wished for it."

Draco was inspecting the hinges of the door. He turned, however, at Hermione's last comment, and faced her with a quirked brow.

"You _wished _for it?" He said, speaking to himself mainly, "So I was right?"

Hermione's brows furrowed in confusion. Draco had that signature smug look growing across his face as he leaned against the oak of the door, arms folded.

"No, Malfoy, as I just explained, the window is important-"

"-I didn't mean that," Draco interrupted, shaking his head at her imbecilic ways, "I meant I was right about talking to the room. If you talk to it, _wish _for something, then it answers you."

Hermione rolled her eyes,

"No, I don't think it's as simple as that," she said, receiving a slight scowl from the boy across the room, "If that was true, when you asked for the door it would've appeared."

_Why was she always right? _Draco thought with frustration. He gritted his teeth, attempting to show no signs of disappointment.

"So then why, when you wished, did you get what you wanted? Are you the new _chosen one _or something?" he said, a little more coldly than he anticipated.

Hermione pursed her lips at Draco's sly remark. She felt her heart wrench a little, though, as she thought of Harry. And Ron. She hadn't seen them for almost a day. Surely they must be searching for her? Wondering where she was? It had been twenty-four hours and Hermione had not attended one class. That in itself must have raised concern. But she felt as though that was not worthy of worrying over. She was helpless, there was nothing she could do anyway.

"I don't know," Hermione sighed, admitting defeat, "But I'm starving. And I need the toilet."

"Me too," Draco grunted, leaning his head back against the door.

Hermione glanced up from her book, eyeing Draco curiously.

"I thought there was not a day on this Earth that we would agree?" she said, mocking the Slytherin's earlier statement, "First you apologize, now you agree with me. Should I be taking note of the newly, kind hearted Malfoy?"

There was a distinct twitch in Draco's cheek. He'd just about forgotten he'd slipped that note into Hermione's book. And it was true, he had just agreed with her. He felt the anger rise inside of him.

"That does not go out of these four walls, understood?" he growled, staring at Hermione with cold, stormy eyes. He reached for the handle on the door to rest upon.

"If we even _get_ out of these four walls,-" Hermione began, but stopped abruptly.

Draco lost his balance, a slight expression of worry taking over his face. His full body weight fell against the door as it shifted behind him, and much to both Hermione and Draco's surprise, swung open. Draco's footing faltered slightly, as the door opened to it's fullest degree, and he reached beside him in hope of finding something to support his weight. Luckily, Draco felt the smooth surface of a hard wooden frame under his grip. Hermione, wide eyed and open mouthed, threw her book aside and slowly rose out of her seat to get a better view. Draco stood, with an expression much like Hermione's, hand on a small wooden chair, one of four, around a dining table. Behind the setup was a very small, one fridge, one counter, and one cooker kitchen with light oak cupboards above the worktop. To the left, was another small door, this time with a misted window on its upper half.

Draco glanced at Hermione, who could merely meet his gaze. She furrowed her brow and blinked repeatedly, finally finding the will to move her legs and walk in Malfoy's direction. He stood and smoothed his hair back, regaining his composure. He watched as Hermione traced her fingers along the dining table, and stood opposite it, juxtaposed to Draco._  
_

"The door opened," she said lightly, still with her mouth slightly agape.

"Yes I can bloody well see that, Granger, thankyou for pointing it out," Draco snapped.

Hermione wet her lips with a swift movement of her tongue. Draco watched intently as she repeatedly pursed her lips and then opened them, as if about to say something. Finally, she spoke.

"Well, what did you do? You must have done something, how did the door open?" Her words came out in a blur.

"I leant on the fucking handle and it just opened!" Draco said loudly, running a hand nervously through his hair.

Hermione took a seat at the table, and swiftly placed her hand on her head in thought. Draco took this time as his liberty to look around his new surroundings. He stalked over to the fridge, and opened it. It was full to the brim with everything you could wish for, from bacon to Pumpkin Pasties. He shut the door, though still slightly in awe, and opened the cupboards. They were completed with stacks of plates and cups, all with a red and green decorative pattern around their perimeter. He closed the door, which groaned in response, and made his way over to the door on the left wall. Draco reached for the door handle and turned it briefly. The Slytherin huffed in response as it refused to open. He hadn't really expected it to. Raising a hand to the misted glass, Draco narrowed his eyes in attempt to see. It was mainly a blur, but the interior of the room on the other side seemed to be mainly an off-white colour, with hints of red and green set to one corner. Swiftly returning his hand to his side, he turned on his heel, and made his way across the grey, marble floor, towards the counter near the fridge, which had a small, white fruit bowl in it's back corner.

"I thought you said you were hungry," Draco commented, reaching for the ripe, green apple on top of the pile of fruit, and taking a large bite out of it.

Hermione turned to face Mafloy at the sound of the crisp crunch. She eyed the apple with a frown, and noticed him chewing contently on it's substance.

"How can you eat at a time like this?" she said, looking at Draco incredulously, who merely swallowed in response, "Aren't you just the slightest bit confused and intrigued as to why the door opened? Why the room let us in _now?_"

"To be honest," Draco replied with a slight tone of sarcasm as he leant against the counter, "In the ten seconds I've been in here, this new room which has been _granted _to us, no. The thought didn't tend to cross my mind, nor did I ponder on it."

"Well luckily for you, I have a theory," Hermione said, lifting her chin with confidence.

Draco rolled his eyes and made his way over to the chair on the opposite side of the table to the Gryffindor. He pulled out the frame, which gave a _screech _as it moved across the floor, and sat heavily on it's contents, resting his feet on the chair beside him.

"Oh, how God has blessed me," he said, with more sarcasm than his last comment, "Do enlighten me, Granger."

Hermione pursed her lips as he took another large bite out of the apple held firmly in his hand. She eyed his harsh grip, and felt a small throbbing in place of the bruises on her wrists. Merely swiping away the thought, Hermione prepared to deliver her theory which she presumed would not sit well with Draco.

"Well," she began, her voice a little less confident than she'd hoped, "Don't you think it's a little," she paused, fumbling for the correct word, "-_Peculiar_, that you apologize to me, and suddenly there's a window in the other room, and we agree on the first thing in our entire life, and suddenly the door is magically unlocked?"

"What're you trying to say, Granger?" Draco said, after swallowing his apple.

"I just think that; _twice _we have been civil with eachother, and _twice _we get something that one of us, or both of us, want."

Draco fell silent for a moment, as did Hermione. It was an uncomfortable silence, really. Neither of the two knew what to say. The only noise was Draco's nonchalant chewing, which was beginning to grate on Hermione. She rolled her eyes and glanced around the room. In all her time at Hogwarts, she'd never come across this little room that she'd been in. It wasn't in the Gryffindor common room, and she wasn't aware of it's location. Hermione's train of thought was disrupted, however, when she heard that familiar _screech _and noticed Draco swing his legs down from the chair beside him. He stood, throwing the half eaten apple in the air, and catching it perfectly. With his back turned to Hermione, he began walking towards the way he had come in.

"Where are you going?" Hermione found herself suddenly say. She supposed there was very little else where Draco could be going other than the room next to them.

"Away from you," he replied, continuing to throw his apple in the air and catch it.

"Malfoy!" Hermione said, staring at his back incredulously.

He turned slowly, and leant against the door frame. His expression was a mixture between amusement and judgement, as his cold stare evaluated Hermione up and down. Hermione felt a little uncomfortable, and pursed her lips instantly in embarrassment. She felt the heat rise on her cheeks, and was sure Draco could see an obvious blush.

"Just because you came up with some _theory,_" Draco said calmly, emphasizing the last word, "Don't expect me to be nice to you."

He took a large bite out of his apple, and turned gracefully, making his way back into the other room.

* * *

The fire was burning happily, and the light through the window was that of a soft, red glow, as the sun set behind the outline of Hagrid's hut. The days seemed to be passing quickly in the room. It was no sooner sunset from the moment Hermione had watched the sun rise. The Gryffindor and Slytherin had been attempting to spend as little time together as possible. Now, with another room available, they were able to distance themselves from one another. Neither of them had any intention of spending more time together than they _had _to. Draco had spent most of his day in the kitchen, inspecting the fridge -and eating most of it's contents, Hermione had noticed,- whilst finding some interest in the windowed door that was locked. Occasionally, he would visit the room Hermione was in, and gaze out the window for a few minutes. Hermione had taken advantage of the books the shelves had to offer. To her surprise, they had both muggle literature and wizard literature. Fiction, Non-fiction, and textbooks. As the day had come to a close, Hermione was in her newly-default position, curled up in a ball on the red armchair where Draco had sat. She yawned slightly, allowing the fire to comfort her as it often did, oblivious to Draco, who seemed to have finished his work in the kitchen, enter the room.

Malfoy eyed Hermione with a smirk. She'd been reading the same book for the past hour or so, her nose practically touching the page.

"Granger," he sighed, sitting on the sofa before her, "Reading a book for the rest of your life does not mean it will _become _your life."

"_The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid_," she said, not once disturbing her attention or taking her eyes off the page.

Draco's eyebrows knit together in thought. What Granger had said sounded almost familiar.

"Jane Austen?" the Slytherin asked, relaxing back into the sofa and spreading his arms along it's length.

Hermione finally looked up from her page, just as she was about to turn it. Her eyebrows were ever so slightly furrowed, like Draco's had been, and Malfoy could almost sense a suppressed smile growing across her once pursed lips.

"Correct," she said, eyeing Draco as if it was the first time he'd ever been right in his life,

"-Why the tone of surprise?" he questioned, crossing his ankles above a stack of books on the table and arching an eyebrow in an arrogant manner.

"I'm impressed by your muggle knowledge, is all," Hermione finally replied, turning the page fully and folding the corner of the paper as a reminder.

Draco eyed her fold and internally shook his head. It was a habit he really had no reason to despise, but did so anyway. The folds ruined the beauty and crispness of the pages. Coming across an ancient fold in the surface of knowledge and entertainment, was just a reminder you were one of many people who had read this book, time and time again. Nothing special. He glanced back to Hermione, who was still analyzing him incredulously, her eyes slightly narrowed in thought.

"The person," Draco began, taking on a tone of authority, mocking Hermione's earlier statement, "-Be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid,"

Hermione pursed her lips once more with a sigh of defeat, but there was still an air of amusement to her expression,

"-And I for one," he continued, raising out of his seat, "-Find reading about nothing more than magic, and spells, and factual knowledge, rather boring from time to time,"

Once again, Hermione found it hard to disguise the smile that was begging to be shown in admiration for the blonde. Things like this, things she'd learnt about Draco over the past few days, never failed to shock her, yet at the same time, surprise her positively. She watched as he made his away around the coffee table, advancing towards the gap between the second sofa and the armchair in which Hermione sat.

"Oh, and also," he lingered in the small gap as he reached Hermione's side, leaning backwards slightly,

"-You might want to invest in a bookmark," he said finally, unfolding the small triangle in the corner of the page that lay open, and smoothed out the crease with his thumb.

Hermione watched as he did so, shaking her head slightly at his neatness, but this time allowing a smile to widen her lips. Draco looked from the book to the face of the Gryffindor he towered over. He noticed her small grin, and felt his lips twitch. In the back of his mind, Draco wanted to smile too. Maybe at her unnecessary amusement. Or maybe he wanted to smile _with_ her, as they pondered over the thought of his strange distaste for the habit. Instead, Draco attempted to keep his face in the monotone, emotionless expression he so often did, as Hermione looked up to see the boy lingering near her. Draco returned his hand to his side smoothly, and glanced at her for a final moment. Hermione couldn't deny it, in the deceivingly small period of time she looked at Draco, she'd almost seen another side to him. And as he turned to go wherever he may have been going, she was sure she'd caught the left side of his mouth curled up into a half suppressed smile.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm so sorry! I know I didn't post yesterday, but I was super busy, and tired, and didn't want to butcher the chapter, which I hope I haven't done anyway. I'd love to hear your ideas for future chapters, as I've completed all I had planned, and I'm slightly winging it now.

_Don't forget review, good or bad, all feedback is appreciate and really motivates me to continue writing._

_Thanks, Amelia x_


	10. Pride & Ignorance

_I do not own any of the characters or story line of Harry Potter, and all credit goes to J.K Rowling, the legend herself._

**Please enjoy reading this, any comments or feedback is most appreciated. Enjoy!**

**Chapter Ten.**

* * *

"Stop!"

It was a break in the silence that neither Hermione, nor Draco, were aware of. Hermione had never been a heavy sleeper, the slightest noise waking her from content slumber.

"You can't do this, please-"

She was instantly stirred and wide awake by the shrill cries that seemed to be very close to her. Forcing her eyes open, Hermione squinted into the bleak, grey daylight that lit the room. She was thankful, however, that there seemed to be no attack, nor fight or duel or dangerous scenario unfolding. She released a sigh of relief, and unfolded her limbs as she stood from the armchair she had slept in.

"Please!"

The voices were not just a dream. Hermione's reflexes initiated, as she withdrew the wand from deep beneath her robes, and feverishly began searching the room. It was completely still. The fire continued to burn, not a tree moved outside. All the furniture was as it had been the night before. And the door had still not shown itself.

But there was something _missing._

"Don't touch- Don't touch.."

Malfoy.

Hermione recognised the pleading instantly. His breath was coming in short rasps, that seemed to be no where near enough to fill his lungs, making his voice shake with fear. Her eyes could not see his lifeless frame anywhere. Instead, Hermione followed the small cries and protests as she made her way over to the direction of the kitchen. The door was only ever so slightly ajar. The adrenaline running through Hermione's body had her holding her wand defensively out in front of her. Her heart was racing and the sudden movements so early in the morning had her head spinning. Practically anything could be on the other side of that wall. Hermione began imagining the possibilities as she approached the door, and silently peered through the small gap.

_Another person. Torture. Injury- Dreaming?_

Hermione noticed Draco's tall frame propped carelessly against the door on the left wall. His eyes were tightly shut, as if sound asleep, but his face was contorted into a deep frown and his mouth was open slightly, panting for breath. The tips of his messy hair were wet, and clung to his face which was beaded with sweat, much like his chest, which was rapidly rising and falling. The thin, white cotton wrung with sweat, as it lay partially open over his torso.

Carefully, Hermione slipped her small frame through the gap in the door, making sure not to startle the troubled boy before her. She made her way over to Draco's direction, as he emitted a small choking noise, and lolled his head from side to side against the wood of the door behind him.

"Malfoy?" she whispered, crouching beside him, her brow furrowed in concern and confusion.

"No!" He cried, swallowing thickly and taking a deep breath, "No please, not her- No,"

Instantly, Draco's teeth clenched, as he grabbed his left arm, and released a low, painful grunt, as if something was infecting his pain threshold. Hermione's eyelids fluttered as she watched him strain in pain, the nails on his hand digging harshly into the skin under his shirt, and the veins in his neck protruding from the damp, pale skin. Something was hurting him. Something in his dream was ripping through the flesh of his skin, or poisoning his perfectly pure bloodstream. Hermione felt rather ill at the thought. She never had been good with blood.

To watch people hurt, or in pain, made Hermione's stomach lurch. It didn't sit well with her. Pain was not something she had a great deal of a hold over. Even if it was her worst enemy, Hermione could feel the lump in the back of her throat begin to swell as Draco winced in agony.

Her instincts took over. Hermione instantly reached for Draco's arm which was clutching on for dear life to his.. _wounded _limb.

"Malfoy, wake up," she said, her voice becoming a little more uneven than she'd hoped.

His skin was simmering under her touch. It was abnormally hot and feverish, as she tried to prise his grip from cutting off the blood circulation. She continued to order him to awaken, her voice calm with a slight nervous undertone. Draco was thrashing his head from side to side in response, his face still showing no release of pain.

"Draco!" she cried, finally.

His head whipped in her direction, and his arm suddenly became loose and relaxed. The Slytherin's eyes flew open, and stared, wide and fearful, like a small animal caught in headlights. Hermione noticed the dilation in his pupils as he adjusted to the light. But there was still a glaze over the icy blue orbs that stared deep into Hermione's soul. They were not gleaming with amusement or challenge. Instead, they looked bleak, and ever so slightly grey, like the morbid clouds pressing down outside. They were vacant. There was no sanity behind them in that moment. Draco's breathing was not showing any sign of slowing, and he began to shake his head spasmodically.

"They're coming," he whispered, the tone of his voice hitching in the back of his throat with fear.

Hermione took a large breath and swallowed deeply.

"There's no one here, Mal-"

"-They'll kill me!" He shouted, causing Hermione to gasp as he lurched forwards in between the small space that separated them.

"-They'll kill you, too!" He continued, though his voice was noticeably less loud than before. And more serious. Draco's face softened, and his heavy eyelids flickered as he sharply glanced to the left side of him, then back to Hermione.

"They'll _kill _me. Don't you understand? I can't, they won't let me, they'll take everything from me. They'll kill me, they'll kill-"

Draco's voice trailed off as his brow furrowed deeply, and his bottom lip began to quiver slightly. The Motherly instinct took over in Hermione, as she summoned a small tea-towel that lay beside the cooker, and pointed her wand at it.

"Aguamenti," she whispered, as cool jets of water soaked the cloth in her hand, which she wrung of excess, and placed gently on Draco's forehead.

Much to Hermione's relief, Draco's breathing began to steady. He lay his head back against the wood of the door, and allowed Hermione to press the cool material against his fiery skin. Hermione watched on, the lump in her throat beginning to fade, and instead sit heavily in her heart. She watched as Draco's eyes never fully recovered from each blink, until his lids were closed. He was still conscious, Hermione could tell, as he swallowed deeply from time to time, and wiped the sweat from the top of his lip every now and again, with his free hand. His other hand, Hermione had rested gently on the floor inbetween them once she'd been able to move his arm. Obliviously, Hermione had taken his shaking hand in hers, and was gently rubbing her thumb against the surface of his cooling skin.

Hermione was prone to nightmares as a child. She wasn't quite sure why, as she would never be exposed to scary stories, or frightening tales with over-protective parents like her's. Instead, the nightmares seemed to find her, in a world completely of her own, where her imaginative brain was able to create the most intimidating things she could think of. Often, she would awake in the middle of the night, screaming, and her mother would run into her room with a cool flannel and lie Hermione back down in her bed. She would place the flannel on Hermione's forehead, in a fashion much like she had just done to Draco, and gently hold her hand, rubbing her thumb on the back of it in a soothing motion.

When Draco's breath was coming in steady rises and falls, Hermione released his hand, and sat back on her heels. The Slytherin took one last, deep swallow, before he opened his eyes ever so slightly. He glanced around the room for a while, remembering just where he was, becoming familiar with his surroundings. Shortly, he rolled his head to the side, and looked up through his dark eyelashes at Hermione. She felt her heart murmur in a fashion that was not similar to the many times it had done that before. Instead, it sort of quivered slightly, causing a light vibrating feeling to spread from her head to the tip of her toes. All Hermione could do in response, was give a weak smile. But Draco did not smile in return. Instead, he took another deep swallow, and nodded his head politely.

"Thank you," he managed to choke out, before his gaze lingered ever so slightly on Hermione's parted lips, and then turned to face the room once again.

"I'll leave you to compose yourself," she said, taking a deep breath, and stood slowly, making her way out of the room.

Hermione was sure she had briefly heard a _click,_ but chose to ignore it.

Draco watched Hermione's retreating figure. He took a deep breath and rested his eyes, before he too heard the _click_ from behind. He stood, supporting his weight on the walls either side of his body and steadied himself onto what appeared to be very weak legs. He retrieved the cloth from his head and turned, eyeing the door in a curious manner. Reaching out a lightly shaking hand, Draco held the cool, brass nob of the door in his grip, and turned it gently. The door gave head under his grasp, and opened finally, revealing a large, aristocrat-esque white, marble bathroom.

Draco glanced momentarily through the archway to his left, and noticed the Gryffindor gazing out the window with a worried expression upon her face. He would tell her later. For now, Draco needed some time to his own.

* * *

The weather was dismal. The beautiful summer sunshine, alongside the bloom of the Herbology huts and the rich, green shards of grass and trees were long gone. In replace, there was not so much as a shadow of beauty left behind, and instead everything appeared to be monotone. The sky was masked with heavy, pessimistic clouds and the faded green of the foliage surrounding Hogwarts merged into one, great wall. Hermione stood briefly, glancing upwards to the brooding sky. It looked as though it would promise rain at any second, and much to Hermione's belief, fine droplets began to fall, pattering against the window. Hermione stood on her tiptoes and held onto the latch on the window frame, locking it down. She pushed against the glass, and took a deep breath of fresh air as the window opened. She leant forwards, resting her arms on the cool, stone windowsill as she felt the refreshing air from outside dance across her face. Never had Hermione witnessed Draco Malfoy in fear. She found herself absent mindedly fiddling with the sleeve of her jumper, as she allowed the heart wrenching cries of the troubled boy mull over in her mind. He was so scared. So completely and utterly fearful and caught up in the moment of whatever was taunting him behind his eyelids. Even with his eyes open, Hermione had seen the glaze that told her he was still dreaming. But what was he dreaming about?

_No, not her. Don't touch- Don't touch. They'll kill me, don't you understand?_

Hermione swallowed deeply as she remembered the fear in Draco's eyes as he stared at her, warning her.

_They'll kill you, too._

Something was working against him. He couldn't do something. They wouldn't 'let him'. And they'd kill him because of it, and Hermione.

The Gryffindor pondered over the thought of who 'they' were. She supposed the most obvious suggestion would be his parents. They had a firm hold over Draco's life, and he would move not a foot without their confirmation first. Hermione wondered what they would not let him do. Something so against their morals, he would be killed for it.

Draco had had such a corrupt upbringing. With his ghastly excuse of a father, whispering malicious lies down one ear, and his quite normal excuse of a mother, who was helpless and merely watched on, Hermione could only imagine the way his life would've been at home. Suddenly, she felt quite spoiled. Hermione had been brought up with good manners, respect, and happy memories. Draco had none of that. Draco did not have someone to tuck him into bed at night and read him stories full of innocence and lack of prejudice. He did not have someone to hold his hand as he worried about the non-existent demons that lay under his bed and hid in his wardrobe. For all the life of Hermione, she could not imagine Lucius Malfoy taking Draco's hand and leading him to a public park, where he would learn to play with children despite their colour, or race, or wealth. It was not accustom for one of the age of merely five or six, to ask how wealthy ones acquaintances were.

Seeing Draco, the boy who had taunted Hermione with the words whispered in his ear by his father, and rolling off his tongue in his memory, shaking with pure fear, and quake in agony, was not something the Gryffindor had ever thought she would care for in her life. But she did. And watching the young Malfoy in Draco realise there was no one to remove the Demons from his wardrobe, no one to tell him the story had a happy ending, no one to say it was okay to play with any child he liked, made her heart sink with sorrow. The boy was so, so... _troubled._

Hermione instantly swiped away a tear she had not realised had escaped her eyes. Suddenly she felt as though she was unworthy of any happiness when she was a child. There were people like Malfoy, who were merely brought up with what they were told was _right. _It was not the child's views. It was the mind of the parent, trapped in their son or daughter's body. They were the hardest ones to convince they could think what they liked. There was a chance for them to break the ways in which they had been told.

With a sigh, Hermione pushed herself away from the window, and shut it ever so slightly. The noise of the rain faded, but Hermione could still hear water running. She glanced to her right, through the doorway to the kitchen, and noticed Draco was not sat on the floor as she had left him. He had been quite a while, and Hermione had expected him to come back through to the main room, and do something Malfoy-eqsue. Complain about the weather, taunt her for not reading a book, ask when the door was ever going to appear. Instead, he didn't appear from the room. She furrowed her brow slightly, and began making her way towards the kitchen, careful not to be too loud.

As she entered the room, Hermione was shocked to find it empty. She searched behind the door, and bit her lip in contemplation. Somewhere, to her left, there was a sound of water trickling. She briefly checked behind herself, before approaching the door on the wall beside her. The window was still misty, and she couldn't see inside. Surely Draco would've told her if the door was open? With a sigh, Hermione dropped from her tiptoes, and grasped the door handle gently. She turned the nob, and gasped as it gave way under her grip. The oak door shifted, and opened as Hermione stepped through the archway.

* * *

The room was most beautiful. There were four great, white marble pillars in each corner, adorned with silver ivy wrapping around each of them. The floor, too, was marble, and white, like the perfectly tiled walls. Hermione's mouth dropped ever so slightly. She had never seen a bathroom of it's size and beauty before. In the center was a large bathing area, big enough to be a small pool, and sunk deep into the ground. It's water lay completely still, with large quantities of bubbles floating on it's surface. To the left was a rather splendid silver toilet, which Hermione smiled with amusement at. To the right, was a lightly frosted white door which Hermione imagined to be the shower. At the back of the room was a wall, completely covered with a slim, long mirror that had a majestic silver frame around it. And there were sinks lined up beneath the mirror, one occupied by somebody.

Hermione's smile faded instantly, and instead, her mouth fell open slightly once more. He had his back to her, but Hermione knew who it was instantly. Draco stood before the mirror, supporting his weight on the sink either side of him and leaning over the one he was occupying. His blonde hair, which looked even lighter in the blinding room, was slicked back and wet. Hermione's eyes wandered without her confirmation, taking in as he leant his head forwards and hung over the sink. Her vision roamed down his neck, to his shoulders, which were broad and tense whilst supporting his weight. She eyed the lines of definition on his shoulder-blades, and the deep line of his spine down the center of his back. Either side of the line were tensed muscles, and at the bottom of his back were two small dimples either side of his spine. Hermione's heart fluttered as she took in the boy, stood with merely nothing on but a green towel around his hips. His skin was dewy and damp, but was pale and marble like, much like the room. He looked nothing like a person, more like a sculpture of some Greek god, which went perfectly with the surroundings. Hermione had to admit, with his long, slim but perfectly toned frame, she had almost forgotten who exactly she was looking at. Draco bent to the sink, and splashed some cold water on his face. Hermione watched as the muscles in his back contorted as he moved. Only when he looked up and patted his face with another emerald towel, did Hermione snap out of her trance.

His eyes met hers in the mirror. She looked away instantly, and Draco turned, still patting his face gently. He did not look angry, nor shocked, like Hermione did. Instead, he looked rather amused.

Suddenly, Hermione became very interested in the window she had not seen, beside the door to the showers. Draco chuckled in response, as a noticeably red blush creeped upon her face. Hermione was doing everything in her power not to look back at the picturesque boy who stood before her, but could not help it as he spoke.

"Nice of you to join me, Granger," he said, his voice as smooth and silky as his slicked back hair.

Hermione glanced at him warily, keeping her eyes focused on his face.

"I didn't mean to intrude," she managed to choke out, and looked down at her feet sheepishly.

Draco merely nodded in response, before she was off again,

"It's just," she sighed, "Why didn't you tell me the room was open?"

Placing the towel on the counter beside him, Draco glanced back at Hermione, who was following his movements.

"I just needed some time," he said, carefully, "To myself-"

"-Forgive me," Hermione nodded in understanding, "I suppose I would've done the same in your situation."

Draco gave another nod, and leant back against the sink he had been leaning over beforehand. There was an awkward silence pressing on the two. Hermione wasn't quite sure why she was still stood there, but her brain had lost all sense of sanity, and she couldn't quite be rid of the scene she had just witnessed. Instead, her feet were rooted to the ground. She looked back to the window, not wanting to give Draco the satisfaction of seeing her blush due to his undeniable beauty. She could sense the smirk playing across his face, and need not glance back to confirm it. Finally, he broke the silence.

"Have you seen the view?" he asked, eyes still locked on the girl stood across the room from him. She glanced at him with a confused expression briefly.

"-You seemed so taken by the window," he mocked, causing Hermione to blush once more, "Isn't that what windows are for? Looking out of?"

Hermione finally allowed her brain to connect to her feet, as her school shoes clicked against the cool marble floor.

"If it's another view from Hogwarts, I doubt one will be most delighted," she muttered, the use of being able to speak becoming familiar again.

Draco simply scoffed in response, and watched as Hermione rounded on the window.

It was not Hogwarts at all. Instead, she looked out onto a large courtyard, with a rectangular lake running straight down the middle, and a marble tiled path with small fir trees lining each side. Hermione couldn't help but smile. It was like something out of a romantic novel she had read time and time again.

"It's impressive, but nothing compared to Malfoy Manor," Draco called from behind Hermione, who was longingly placing her hand against the misted glass.

"It's probably better, in many ways," she muttered in response, and received a scoff from Malfoy.

"And how would that be?" he questioned.

"Well," Hermione began, still taking in the scenery, "For a start, it's romantic-"

"-_Romantic_," Draco shook his head, eyeing the back of Hermione incredulously. She turned and rested against the window in response, quirking an eyebrow.

"And what exactly do you mean by that?" she asked, folding her arms defensively.

"Romance is dead and gone, Granger," he rolled his eyes.

"It is not!" Hermione cried, rather more loudly than she anticipated. The blonde smirked in response, and quirked an eyebrow in a fashion much like her. Taking a small breath, and calming herself, Hermione continued,

"Just because boys these days think it romantic to take a girl to bed and shag her before they barely know eachother, does not mean there is not one person out there who doesn't know what romance is. Honestly, if boys read some decent literature from time to time, they would know that!"

Draco turned back to the mirror, and picked up a comb from beside the taps.

"And what would you suggest is _decent _literature, Granger?" he said, beginning to part his hair in the unnatural, pin-straight line everyone was so used to seeing.

"Well," Hermione began, trying her best to act completely uninterested as Draco's muscular torso strained whilst he primed himself, "I suppose _Pride and Prejudice _is one to start on,"

"You really do have an interest in Jane Austen, don't you?" Draco said, a tone of amusement lacing his voice. Hermione remembered their brief conversation about the author only the other night. Suddenly, Hermione felt almost as though anything that was her view would not impress Malfoy. She gritted her teeth in response.

"She is a very talented author," Hermione said, attempting to keep her cool, "And her characters are most intriguing."

"Well, I would say _Pride and Prejudice _is one of the finer pieces of literature I've read," Draco commented, as if this agreeing thing was nothing new.

Hermione loosened her jaw at his reply, and merely stared at the boy before her in response. Draco faced her, as if expecting an answer. A large smirk played across his face as he eyed Hermione who was at a loss for words.

"Come on, Granger," he mused, "This is where you say something like '_Oh, how aristocrat of you it is for you to have read said books.'_"

A smile of amusement almost crept through Hermione's lips as she witnessed Draco's accurate impression. She did her best, however, to hide the smile, and arched an eyebrow instead.

"I was a little taken aback when you'd _heard _of Jane Austen," she began, receiving a scoff from Malfoy, "But I didn't so much as think twice about you actually reading one of her books. She's a muggle, surely that is degrading the Malfoy name?"

Hermione took a seat on the chaise-lounge beside the window. She was a little uneasy at the fact of her comfortableness around a half naked Draco Malfoy who would've probably hexed her for lingering had it been a couple of months ago. Instead, he simply turned to face Hermione, and leant against the sink beside him.

"Though my father was an abominable tyrant," he began, "My mother did try to bring me up with _some _morals. She bought me the novel for one of my recent birthdays. A little disappointed, she was, to find I'm no _Mr. Darcy, _but one ought not to judge everyone under the judgement you made earlier."

"So what're you saying?" Hermione raised her eyebrows in interest. This was the longest conversation she and Draco had had about something actually worth talking about, and she was rather glad of that. Who knew that Draco Malfoy had a secret interest in English Literature?

"What're you implying?" He retorted. Draco, too, was slightly amused by their banter.

"I find it hard to believe that Draco Malfoy is that small percentage of people who understands what romance is, that is all," she dismissed her comment with a shrug of her shoulders.

Draco's eyes flashed with challenge. They were not vacant, like they had been earlier that morning. Hermione raised both her brows in response, expecting some sort of answer from him.

"Maybe I am more like Mr. Darcy than both you and I think," he said rather vaguely.

"You under-estimate my thoughts on you, then," Hermione said, almost without giving it a second thought, "I find you and Mr. Darcy very similar."

"Do you care to expand on that, Granger?" Draco said, raising an eyebrow much like Hermione had done.

"Well you are both unfortunately wealthy, ill of good conversational manners, and blinded by pride," Hermione listed, wondering whether she was pushing the Slytherin's boundaries ever so slightly. There was something on the tip of Hermione's tongue, begging to come out. Draco could sense this, and he nodded his head as if to queue her next comment.

"-And you both tend to look down on people for their inferior birth," she said finally, the smile fading from both their faces.

"Well then, I guess you have made it quite clear how much you despise both me and Mr. Darcy," Malfoy said, striding to the end of the sink and picking up a pile of folded material. A small sneer creeped back onto Draco's face, the one Hermione was used to. She felt her stomach lurch in response, as he glanced back at the Gryffindor.

"Fresh robes," he informed her, before folding them under his arm and striding across the room to leave.

Hermione eyed him as he left. Draco was quite wrong. She had been very fond of Mr. Darcy. She found his superiority and wealth, and large brains full of knowledge very attractive. She'd also found his arrogance and mysterious characteristics intriguing too. And his final admittance for his forbidden love between himself and Elizabeth was what made Hermione love the book so much. As much as Draco and Mr. Darcy were alike, she was very fond of Mr. Darcy, and as Draco shut the door rather forcefully behind him, she realised just how alike he and the fictional character were, too.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm sorry! I had writers block and found it hard to write another chapter. However, I recently re-watched Pride and Prejudice with Kiera Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen in, and it inspired me completely. Pride and Prejudice is so similar to Dramione in so many ways, and is one of my favourite books. I'd like to say thankyou to it, for making this chapter a joy to write.

_Don't forget review, good or bad, all feedback is appreciate and really motivates me to continue writing._

_Thanks, Amelia x_


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